


Left Unsaid

by Clockwork_Mockingbird



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Christopher Diaz is a National Treasure, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Unrequited Love, buck saved people during the tsunami, buck's firefam loves him, eddie feels like a bad father, eddie pines like so much, fireFamily, firefam - Freeform, i'm two years late for the tsunami fix its but here, there's a facebook group yall, we all know that tag is bogus with this ship right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:34:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 33,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29146743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clockwork_Mockingbird/pseuds/Clockwork_Mockingbird
Summary: A woman shows up at the station with a picture of Buck on her phone.It goes better than last time.ORThe discovery of a small facebook group full of tsunami survivors rocks station 118.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 683
Kudos: 2144
Collections: 9-1-1 Tales





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a fun little headcanon I enjoyed about Buck saving people during the tsunami before rushing off to search for Christopher. Am I two years late to the tsunami fix-it party? Absolutely. Am I writing this anyways? Guess so! No promises about any kind of update schedule, but I'll do my best to keep on writing

"Buck's pancakes are better."

Eddie can't even be offended. It's true.

He eyes the pan in front of him dubiously, where a pancake- what's supposed to be a pancake- bubbles and hisses ominously. Nothing's blown up yet, but the day is young. And the damn things keep sticking to the pan, even though he swears he sprayed it with the non stick stuff this time. Was it non stick stuff? Things seem to still be sticking.

Eddie is not a good cook.

He's not even a decent one. He knows this.

But Christopher needs to be fed, and Eddie hadn't had time to run to the store after his last shift. They were out of cereal, bread, and he'd used the last few eggs in the pancake batter. It had either been pancakes or the drive thru again (third time this week and isn't _that_ such a failure of a single dad cliche), and Christopher deserves a home cooked meal as often as he can get it.

Maybe he could re-read those cookbooks Carla had picked up for him after the bacon incident. They hadn't done him any good last time, but second time could be the charm. Surely there was a youtube video on how to not fail at pancakes. Because he was clearly failing at pancakes. He dumps the newest one straight into the garbage, pours more batter into the pan. Should he add more, or would that be bad?

"We could have cake instead."

Eddie gives his son A Look. "Not on your life." How did he get batter _and_ flour _and_ eggs on the counter?

"But Daaaaad. _Pan_ cakes. Cake! Breakfast food!"

His sip of coffee nearly goes up his nose with his snort. "Oh, I see. That's why you wanted pancakes all of a sudden this morning."

"You suggested the pancakes."

"Did I? Hmmm. I dunno, mijo. Sounds like something you would do."

Christopher grins, chewing through the one edible pancake that has survived out of the pan thus far. It's so runny he practically needs a spoon to eat it. Determined- he _will_ get his son fed before school- Eddie goes back to the pan. This time he makes absolutely sure to spray the pan with the non stick spray that does not appear to be working in the slightest.

"How does Buck make them so fluffy?" Eddie wonders aloud. He starts edging the spatula under the latest pancake attempt, trying to flip it before it burns as bad as the last one did.

But, come on, everyone knows that the first pancake doesn't count.

The second and third ones are usually up in the air too.

(Okay, by pancake eight, you're supposed to have it down, but clearly that is not happening here.)

"Maybe Buck is magic," Christopher says, eyes wide.

Eddie doesn't even have to think about that. "Oh, he is." Magic that can make him smile, somehow, every time about anything. Everything. Nothing.

"Dad, Dad."

Man, this pancake is _not_ coming up from the pan. The spatula just keeps catching and breaking it up, and batter keeps spreading everywhere even though somehow the bottom of the pancake looks way too dark already. What kind of non stick spray is this? Eddie wants his money back.

"Yeah?"

"Does Buck knows he's magic?"

"He has to be, to make pancakes so good."

"But does he know?"

And that, Eddie doesn't have to think about either.

If he tells Buck _"you're magic, you're amazing, you're everything"_ or any of the other hundred wonderful things about himself, Buck would hunch in, close himself off so fast.

A casual grin, laughing it off like a joke, uncomfortable and unsure. Silent until the bell sounds for the next emergency, the next distraction that gets Buck out of his own head. Off into the danger that makes Buck feel worthwhile like there aren't a million other things that make Buck irreplaceable, amazing, sacred, magical.

"I'll tell him," Eddie swears quietly to himself. Then, louder, to Christopher. "We'll tell him, yeah? And we'll make sure he listens."

"Because Buck is the BEST!"

"Come on, I make pancakes too!"

The beat of silence is so telling, so guilty, that Eddie has to laugh.

He manages to get the pancake flipped after a fierce battle that nearly sends the pan sliding right off the burner. A bit of batter leaps out of the pan and lands directly on his thumb with a pop. Immediately, the welt snaps up, red and angry.

" _Mierda-_ " He bites off the swear too late. Behind him, Christopher giggles, watching Eddie dance in a tight circle.

"You should run it under cold water," his son says, unconcerned.

He actually should, and moves to do just that.

"When did you get so smart?"

The water does help, though the sting will linger all day. Eddie's no stranger to burns- hello, firefighter- but this one is barely worth mentioning. Should probably put some burn cream on it, just in case.

"You told me that. Burns should be run under cold water, and then be cleaned."

Maybe he's not screwing this parenting thing up so bad if Christopher at least learns some first aid from him. Or, at the very least, how not to make pancakes.

Christopher points to the first aid kit on the wall. "And burn cream," he adds, with a stern look.

"And burn cream," Eddie agrees. "Here, can you put it on for me, mijo? My hands aren't too clean."

On the burner, the offending pancake continues to offend by going and smoking up that corner of the kitchen while Eddie's back is turned. Christopher learns three new Spanish swears just by watching his dad run around the house, frantically throwing open the windows and doors before his coworkers (dear god they would never let him live this down) show up to put out a _pancake fire_.

When the smoke clears, Eddie gives Christopher a speech about never turning your back on a lit burner- _like he just did_ -for any reason while frantically snatching up his keys and insisting that no, they were not going to be late to school again.

They hit the drive thru on the way to the school. Eddie recognizes the girl in the window and tries not to make eye contact when he defeatedly accepts his order.

* * *

There are thousands of Christophers in the world, and Eddie knows this. Probably even hundreds of thousands. His son is not the only Christopher out there- hell, he's not even the only one in his classroom. Still, when the woman standing next to Bobby says "Christopher", Eddie's attention is immediately grabbed, some kind of father instinct stuck on overdrive.

Maybe if he's always ready to spring into action at even the mention of his son's name, he can finally start making up for the years and years of failures behind him.

Bobby locks eyes with him for a split second, and Eddie hesitates long enough in the boiling heat for Bobby to motion him over.

"This is Cheryl," Bobby introduces. "She's been telling me about this... Facebook group she's a part of."

Okay, and now Eddie is officially interested, because Bobby _uses_ social media, sure. In that he had a blank profile up until May saw it and- truly dismayed- fixed it up with pictures, adding friends, forcing him to get the app and post things. It's mostly pictures of dinners he's cooked (which isn't fair when Eddie swears he could burn water and he makes Christopher oven baked chicken nuggets _again_ ), but Bobby isn't part of any Groups.

He wasn't entirely sure Bobby knew completely what a Facebook group is, going off Cap's furrowed brow and the odd silent pause after Eddie shakes Cheryl's hand.

"This... group," Bobby says slowly, looking to Cheryl for confirmation, "is looking for a firefighter that saved them during the tsunami."

For a second, Eddie thinks of Bosko, scaling a Ferris wheel to get to an injured man, of Hen, desperately finding a way to do CPR on a sinking ship, the sheer hordes of off-duty people that showed up at their houses to help. Any number of firefighters, of heroes that saved so many lives on that awful day. So many people saved. So many lost.

He doesn't like thinking of that day.

Thinking of Buck, terrified, bleeding, shaking, _destroyed_ Buck, holding out his son's glasses in trembling hands, voice stuttering as he tries to explain that Christopher was ripped away from him.

Buck, collapsing in relief when Eddie scooped his son up.

Buck, unconscious for _nineteen hours_ , needing fluids, and antibiotics, and wounds hastily stitched or glued or taped closed and later, at a proper hospital with a bed and not a cot, a partial transfusion to replace the blood he'd lost while he'd torn the world apart looking for Eddie's son.

"What firefighter?" Eddie asks, voice catching a little, even though he somehow knows, he can just tell this is about Buck.

Wordlessly, Cheryl offers Eddie her phone.

And Eddie can only stare at the picture of Buck in a dirty, gray shirt that used to be white, fresh blood dripping from the lines scored into his face. The picture is a little blurry, and taken from the side so that only the partial profile is visible, but it's unmistakably Buck.

Buck, who is in the process of pulling a woman out of a car through the window.

"He didn't give his name, but someone in the group swears he heard him say he was LAFD. He's got a- a scar or something here-" Cheryl touches her eye, a spot Eddie knows so, so well. A spot he could draw the exact shape of even if he goes blind.

"It's a birthmark," comes out without thought. It's natural to correct her. Any detail about Buck needs to be right, correct, and the need for that to be so is not something he's willing to explore right now (he already knows the answer anyway).

"You know him?"

Bobby glances around, suddenly, taking in the firefighters coming and going, the people milling about just inside the station. Shift change is in half an hour and it's up in the air if Buck is even here yet, or if he got caught in traffic on his way from his place.

Eddie is also not willing to explore why he knows what the traffic patterns are like between Buck's place and the station.

"Why don't we talk inside," Bobby offers, and he looks at Eddie like he's fighting a smile. "Eddie, you come with us. I think you need to hear this too."

"Okay..."

There is indeed a Facebook group involved, much to Bobby's confusion. Eddie is so delighted at the possible teasing that is about to come down on Bobby's head once the word gets out that he forgets to change out of his civvies, simply going straight to the captain's mostly unused office.

Bobby shuts the door.

Eddie takes a second, then. Because Bobby never shuts the door. On the (very) rare occasions Bobby is even _in_ his office, the door is at least partially open.

He remembers the stories of "Buck 1.0" as told to him by Buck himself, and the accompanying stories from Chim, from Hen, even one from Bobby about a stolen firetruck... a repeatedly stolen firetruck. Suddenly worries, for a split second, if Buck is actually in trouble for something, not about to be... whatever else could be happening right now.

Because, to be honest, he's a little confused by the Facebook group too.

And then another thought falls into his head like thunder.

_What if it's a Facebook group of Buck's exes._

Which is absolutely ridiculous thought in of itself. To say nothing of the ridiculousness of the surge of discomfort that wells in him if it somehow was a group of ex Buck lovers coming to pay him a visit. But the thought dies down quickly enough because why on earth would Cap want him to hear about something like that?

Though there was that catfishing incident, before he was even in the 118. Women showing up to the station to hit Buck, yell, then leave, leaving a confused Buck in their wake. Chim tells the story fondly, and often, and always, always tells everyone how Buck made sure the guy died with some dignity.

So far, at least, this is going better than that did.

Cheryl pushes honey blonde hair out of her face, tapping quickly on her phone as she sits. "I- I just. Can't believe this is happening. We've all been looking for him for _so_ long, and we didn't even have a name. Just a few photos, and one video- supposedly- but it never got uploaded." She smiles, a happy flush to her face.

"So, you've been looking for Buck," Bobby says, seated a little awkwardly behind his desk.

Eddie stands, hands in his pockets, and watches Cheryl take a breath and hand her phone to Bobby.

"His name is Buck," she says, like a weight. "Finally, a name! He saved us- me, so many- there's forty-nine people in the group right now, and we've all wondered. He only ever said he was LAFD."

Bobby smiles. "That sounds like him," he says, eyes catching Eddie's.

"He- Buck- pulled me out of my car after I got trapped in some water, smashed up against debris. I couldn't get my door open, and the water was rising up from the floorboards. I hit my head hard, I was bleeding and confused and scared... and suddenly, there was a voice, telling me to shield my face, he was here, he was going to get me out. And then he did."

Eddie crosses the room, takes the phone curiously, but his attention is on Cheryl.

"And once he had me out, he carried me to a dry spot where he'd gathered other people, told me to keep pressure on my head wound. Then he asked me if I'd seen a little boy."

Breath catches in Eddie's lungs, and he has to sit, suddenly, in the oddly shaped office chair Bobby hates but can't find a replacement for. Can't justify the expense of something that's never used anyways. No one sits in it, why waste the money to replace it when he could buy dinner for the crew, make sure his people are fed.

"-name is Christopher, yellow shirt, curly hair," Cheryl continues, like she hasn't just dropped such heavy news that Buck had searched for Christopher while literally pulling trapped people from flood waters. "We hadn't, and he was gone before we could even ask his name, just _screaming_ for Christopher."

_I lost him, Eddie._

Buck, oh, oh, Buck.

"How did this," Bobby nods to the phone, held limply in Eddie's hand, "get started?"

Eddie blinks down at the phone, tries to focus on the screen.

And there, in his hand, is another reason to love Evan Buckley.

The name of the group is _Tsunami LAFD Rescues_ , and Buck is front and center. There are five more pictures he can see without scrolling through, each one an action shot of Buck pulling someone to safety, of Buck moving rubble, directing people to high ground.

In every picture, Buck is bleeding. He's filthy. And Christopher's glasses are around his neck, bright red against the dingy, dirty gray.

Eddie puts a hand to his mouth to stop the wail that wants to crawl out of his chest, to swallow the urge to pull out his phone, call Christopher right now just to make sure, completely sure that nothing has happened in the hour since Eddie had dropped him off at school.

Just this morning, Christopher had tried to eat runny, overdone pancakes with him, laughing about "the syrup holds better than the pancakes, Dad" around a mouthful, and Eddie had laughed, heart so full it nearly burst. Applying burn cream to his father's hand, head bent in serious concentration ("Does it hurt, Dad?" "Not anymore, mijo, thank you.") as the pan smokes behind them.

He's at school, he's _fine_ -

_A school's the safest place you can be-_

_-thought that was a high rise-_

"Oh, my son started it," Cheryl says with a laugh. "I talked about the mysterious man that save me so much that he made this Facebook group for me, so I could maybe find the people I'd been with, see if anyone caught his name. I did, eventually. Find them, that is. Most of them. But I also found more."

"More?"

"More people that Buck saved. I went to group therapy for a while like a survivor's group, I guess. Found some people there who recognized him and had stories of their own. But there's a lot of us. Like I said, forty-nine, but we know that's not everyone. All of them say the same thing: he appeared, saved them, asked for Christopher, and was gone by the time other rescuers caught up."

Eddie is physically incapable of stopping the hitching breath that escapes him. Considers it a victory that he manages not to make any of the wounded animal noises that are trying to claw their way out of him.

"Christopher is my son," he manages, through a voice so thick, so hoarse, he has to swallow. "He was with Buck on the pier when the tsunami hit."

_I lost him, Eddie._

"Oh..." Cheryl tears up. "Is he- Did Buck-"

"He's fine. He's perfect. Buck... Buck saved him, too." The pinprick burn of tears against the back of his eyelids is a little hard to swallow down. "He's always there for Christopher, for me."

_Does Buck know he's magic?_

_But does he know?_

Bobby leans back in his chair, face thoughtful. Eddie can practically see the gears turning. "Can you tell us about some of the people in this group? And," he adds, suddenly, like he just thought of it, "let's hold off on telling anyone about this. That you found Buck, or that we know about this group- at least for now."

"We can't just keep this quiet-"

Bobby cuts off Eddie's protests with a wave of his hand. "I'm not saying we do. Let's think on it for a while, come back when everything's had time to settle. Whatever we do needs to reflect what he did for all of you. For everyone," he adds, that deep stare pinned right on Eddie.

"He saved us. He deserves everything."

Eddie couldn't agree more.

* * *

Buck bounces into the station with a mile wide grin, barely on time for his shift, nearly tripping over himself to get to Eddie while changing into his uniform.

"Eddie, man, I found the _best_ science kit for Christopher's birthday! You gotta see this thing, it's got make your own slime that you can grow, and a microscope, and there's this gross looking bug project that Christopher is going to _flip_ over-"

Eddie just lets it wash over him, the pure joy that radiates from Buck. The smile that Buck is wearing could cure cancer, he swears to god. He almost wonders, for a second, if Buck is just putting on this show, so careful to always be happy and cheerful. Always okay, always ready to go, always there and willing to give so much (that part isn't an act, that's... just Buck turning himself over completely to everyone he loves until he has nothing left for himself. And Eddie is the most selfish asshole in the world because he is always there to take more, to want more, always).

"If you bring slime into my house, you have to clean it up," Eddie threatens. Normal, every day banter, simple conversations that have nothing to do with fifty people on the pier or the way Buck hunches slightly until he puts on his uniform and _then_ , then he stands straight and tall, like he's not carrying around a secret forty-nine strangers big and counting.

Buck points a finger at him, shirt halfway on. "Done. What time does everyone start arriving? I mean, besides Pepa, Abuela, and Carla?"

 _And you, Buck_ , Eddie thinks. Family always arrives to the party first, to help decorate and set up before all the kids arrive to promptly destroy the place in a whirlwind of chaotic and fun mayhem.

But now Eddie has a different problem entirely, in that he's suddenly very interested in the fact that Buck's shirt is stuck somewhere around his armpits.

Buck seems to not be making any kind of effort to remedy this. He's distracted by his phone, unaware or uncaring that he's basically undressed and just _standing_ there.

(Leering at your best and truest friend- ever, in your life, in the entire world- in a workplace environment is inappropriate for _all of the reasons_ , get it together, man.)

If Eddie is very, very careful, his eyes will not drop below Buck's neck. He won't take in the toned chest, the V-shaped stomach he knows is on display. If he doesn't look at Buck's stupid body, nothing stupid (like _can I touch you_ ) will filter through his stupid brain and out his stupid mouth.

"Six, six thirty. Depends on when I can go get Abuela, swing by for Pepa."

"I can get Pepa on my way to get the cake- she lives like two blocks away from that bakery so it's on the way-"

"You don't have to. You're already coming over right after work to help set up before the rest of the family arrives."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm the best friend ever, I know it." Buck brushes it off, like it's nothing, typing something with both hands. "I'll even get her first so she can 'just get a few things' like she always does. And I can even hurry her along if I get the ice cream too. She won't want it to melt so we'll actually get out in under half an hour."

So easy.

Offering more and more of himself, more time, more effort, more energy, just to help. So eager, so _happy_ to lend a hand, to make Eddie's life easier, waving off Eddie's protests like it's nothing. Knowing enough about Eddie's family, Eddie's life to actually make it easier.

Buck finally gets his shirt on the rest of the way, and Eddie takes his first deep breath since he'd seen Cheryl standing beside Bobby in the LA heat.

Buck saved forty-nine people in the tsunami and never said anything.

Chim appears, a wonderful distraction, slapping Buck's shoulder. "Howdy, Buckaroo. How did the epic shopping trip go? Find what you were looking for? Maddie swears she's forever done going to the mall with you."

"Oh, she always says that, but she always caves if you buy her one of those cinnamon pretzels with icing."

Chim's already almost completely dressed and Buck still hasn't fixed his pants. "Oh, yeah, she loves those," Chim says with a laugh, already doing up his boots.

"Right? She can _not_ say no to those. But check out what we found for Christopher's birthday. Totally worth the overpriced pretzels."

"Ooo, you went with the one that comes with the bug kit? Gross, he's gonna love it."

The smirk that crosses Buck's face should be against the law to aim at someone without 48 hours advance notice. _Especially_ as he finishes doing up his pants. "Bug kit _and_ slime kit."

"Evan, I swear to god if you stain any piece of furniture with that neon green goop stuff-"

"What, you don't trust me?" Buck puts a hand over his heart, pats it. "Ouch, man. I thought we had each other's backs!"

Chim snickers his way out the door, fastening his watch as he goes.

"Trust or not, you're replacing anything you stain."

"In that case, I might just stain your couch on purpose. That thing sucks."

Mildly offended- he'd picked out that couch himself, thank you very much (from a yard sale for twenty bucks, but still) Eddie nudges Buck's shoulder with his own. "C'mon, don't insult a man's couch like that."

"No, no, Eddie, that thing is so bad. It's an eyesore-"

"-it is _not_ -"

"-it's got a weird smell to it-"

"- _what_ weird smell-"

"-and it's so damn lumpy and uncomfortable to sleep on!" Buck finishes, hip checking Eddie. "Shut up, that thing is bad!"

He would know, Eddie realizes. Buck practically lives on that couch, long form stretched out over a space that's just too small, feet dangling over the arm. Staying over after too many beers, too much fun with Christopher, or a bad call that neither of them want to be alone after, or whatever reason Eddie invents to keep him there, just a little longer.

(That odd, aching jolt on the mornings when he wakes up and Buck isn't there is something he can't describe.)

"Couches aren't meant to be slept on, you know."

Buck rolls his eyes. "But it should be comfortable enough to sleep on it if you need to, and trust me, it's not."

The couch kills Buck's back, and Eddie knows it. Buck's never, not once, complained or even mentioned in an off-hand way until now, but Eddie can always tell by the way Buck holds himself in the mornings. Hunched over, wincing slightly, but straightening quickly, smile in place whenever Christopher or his father look his way.

 _Don't worry,_ he always says, that cocksure grin on his face. _I'm fine. I'm okay._

And it just about breaks Eddie's heart, how _eager_ Buck is to always be okay, to never be anything other than okay. Even with something as small and simple as his back twinging after a night on a too small couch.

Okay, the couch is a little lumpy, he'll admit that, but...

"There is not a smell. You're making up the smell."

Buck shakes his head, taking the stairs two at a time. "You're in such denial, and about a couch. It's not healthy." He snags a strawberry from the fruit bowl as he passes the island, cramming the entire thing in his mouth.

"Dude." Eddie tries for causal, but after Hen had told him about Buck _literally choking and dying on a piece of bread_ during a date, he can't unclench until Buck swallows the piece of fruit safely and takes a breath.

He grins, blue eyes sparkling, red juice dripping from the corner of his mouth.

Eddie has to physically restrain himself from reaching up and wiping it away with his thumb.

Buck grabs a handful of strawberries and skirts the island, stopping for a bottle of water on the way. "There is definitely a smell," he says over his shoulder, pulling a face. "It's like... old chinese and gym socks."

Eddie scoffs, accepting the bottle Buck offers him and taking a swig. He shakes a finger in Buck's face.

"The only way my couch smells like old chinese and gym socks is if _you_ smell like chinese and gym socks, and then bring that smell to _my_ couch. My couch," Eddie adds, "that I graciously let you sleep on after I kick your ass at Street Fighter."

Another strawberry disappears into Buck's mouth and listen, Eddie's never been jealous of fruit before-

"You do not," Buck mutters, swallowing. "I don't smell like chinese or gym socks, and you definitely do not beat me at Street Fighter."

One arched brow is enough for Buck to drop his gaze.

"Okay, you beat me at Street Fighter," he admits, as the laughter escapes Eddie. "But listen, that smell is _not_ me. And if it ain't me..." He bites into another strawberry.

"Are you insinuating, Evan, that _I_ smell like gym socks? I'm shocked and offended."

"I'm just saying, Edmundo, that it is your couch, in your house. And if I don't smell like old chinese, then the smell has to have originated from-" Buck trails off meaningfully, gesturing with the remains of the half eaten strawberry.

Later, if anyone asks, Eddie will claim temporary insanity induced by boiling heat. Lack of sleep, maybe. The way this little secret between him and Bobby and forty-nine strangers is weighing heavy on him, making him off balance, shaky.

Maybe it's just that having two secrets that revolve around Buck is too big, and one has to come to the surface to make room for the other to be buried.

Either way, Eddie's sure he became momentarily possessed or something, because he grabs Buck's hand, his fingers wrapping tight around his wrist. He plucks the strawberry from Buck's fingers with his teeth, his lips just catching on the calloused skin. He's so, _so_ tempted to take a bite out of Buck too. He doesn't drop Buck's gaze when he swallows.

Carefully, slowly, Eddie grazes his thumb over Buck's wrist. A small, featherlight circle.

He's imagining a soft sound falling from Buck's mouth, that little gasp that escapes. But his imagination is good, and he swears he can see the flush crawling up Buck's neck, can feel Buck's pulse scrambling under his fingers, and the image will fuel him for months to come.

The bell sounds, a bucket of ice water over the moment. Eddie drops Buck's wrist. Staggers back three full steps.

"Showtime," Buck says, completely normally.

Eddie's imagination is really, really good.

* * *

"It does too smell."

"Buck, you gotta drop it, man."

"I'm serious! I've febreezed that thing so many times and it does no good."

Eddie combs his hair, eyes on himself in the mirror.

Behind him, Buck is rummaging around in his locker, towel knotted around his waist. No shirt, legs and knees and shins on display, skin still damp and dripping. Eddie keeps his eyes carefully trained on himself, but he can't help what he sees in his peripheral.

(Staring at your best friend is what got you in this mess in the first place, Diaz. Keep your eyes on your own tattoos.)

"See, that just tells me that the source of the smell is in fact _you_." Somehow, his voice comes out normal.

Insulted, Buck whips around, his little tube of hair gel in his hand. He makes a show of stomping up to the sink beside Eddie, glaring at the other man through the mirror.

"I'm just saying," Eddie continues, before Buck can speak again. "If the smell seems to be following you around, it's not coming from my couch."

"Oh, please, like you'd even notice if your couch smells. Which, you clearly don't! Because your couch smells!"

"Yeah, like you."

Insulted, Buck reaches over and ruffles Eddie's hair out of the perfect style he'd _just_ tamed it into.

"Rude-"

"Oh, because telling me I smell like old chinese isn't?" Buck laughs, trying to snatch Eddie's comb out of his hand. Eddie lets him have it, dropping the comb to avoid his hands brushing against Buck's, that jolt of electricity that zings through him every time. He keeps his back to Buck as he pulls on his pants.

"I never said you smell like old chinese. You said my couch smells like that, and I said that my couch smells like you. So, therefore... you smell like old chinese."

He doesn't. Buck smells like his bodywash, the _Mountain Spring_ shampoo he uses with floral, fruity scents (that Eddie definitely never sniffs in the grocery store sometimes then hastily puts back in shame, because only a total weirdo would do that).

"I," Buck declares, slicking his hair back with one hand, fastening his pants with the other, "smell amazing and you know it."

Willing to torture himself a little more, Eddie leans over and elaborately sniffs at Buck's shoulder as he pulls his shirt on. "Eh, not bad."

"Oh, and you smell so much better than me." Buck drops to the bench beside Eddie, shoving his feet into his boots. He leans over to sniff Eddie, but his nose lands in Eddie's hairline and Eddie _swears_ the breath leaves his lungs when he risks a glance up.

"Hmm," Buck breathes, like he doesn't know, like he has no idea what effect he has on Eddie. "Yeah, you smell alright."

"Glad you approve."

It comes out much more throaty than Eddie meant it to, and the atmosphere of the room shifts like _that_ , the strawberry from this morning all over again. Eddie wants take the words back the second they leave him, to bring back the calmer air, go back to him and Buck ribbing each other, not staring at the other, awkward and unsure.

If Eddie's heart doesn't calm down, they're going to have to get Chim in here with the paddles.

Buck rescued nearly fifty people. During a tsunami. While bleeding. And searching, desperately, for Christopher. Didn't stop- _wouldn't stop_ for help until he'd collapsed.

That kind of person deserves to be loved, fully and openly. Loudly. And Eddie wants to be selfish, to try to be that person. But he's not who Buck wants. He can't be.

Someday, Buck will find who he wants, and she... she will be kind, and smart, and beautiful, and Eddie will have to find it in him to be kind to her, to welcome her. He will have to watch the love story unfold, and cheer his friend on, because Buck deserves it. Deserves everything. He deserves to be held and loved and cherished by the person he loves, whoever she turns out to be.

But it's not _fair_ -

Eddie drops his gaze. Ties his boots. Makes some crack about Buck smelling like gym socks.

It's not fair to want something so impossible.


	2. Chapter 2

Buck goes home to his loft alone that night.

Eddie forces himself to remember that this is supposed to be the normal. He to his house, Buck to his own. Buck surely needs some alone time before Christopher's birthday party in a few days, where he'll be swarmed by nine-year-olds who need to know all about Christopher's Buck. Hell, Buck is probably enjoying the silence of his modern home, with its non smelly, unlumpy couch, and whatever protein rich food he whipped up.

And some distance would be best. Give Eddie some time to work through and get over his crush before he destroys everything.

Carla is kind enough to make them a casserole to heat up, with instructions she swears he cannot mess up. Nothing explodes or sticks to anything, so he considers it a win, and Christopher eats every bite. Eddie even gets the living room swept while Christopher does the last of his homework.

He manages laundry and dishes while Christopher is in the shower, but bedtime eats up the time he'd budgeted for cleaning up the mess they'd made in the kitchen that morning. Two stories ("one more Dad, pleaaaaase") and a self indulgent cuddle session he couldn't extract himself from, even after Christopher was long asleep, meant he was much further behind schedule than he meant to be by the time he sat down with a beer.

Eddie could be doing any number of things right now. The laundry needs to be swapped to the dryer, his budget has been crying for help for days, and there are somehow Lego in every single room in the house when there are very specific rules about them staying in Christopher's room.

He remembers Cheryl, standing in the morning light. _There's forty-nine of us._

He doesn't use Facebook much. Posts pictures of Christopher here and there, batches of updates for family scattered across the country. He'll periodically check on members of his old unit, liking statuses about birthdays and anniversaries, old unit photos, stories of kids, of VA nightmares. Old friends from old jobs- old lives- that he doesn't really talk to anymore.

He's a member of a few groups. A Cerebral Palsy group, a single parent group, and some group Buck added him to, some cartoon he and Christopher watch together all the time. (It's all over his feed, always, and he smiles every time he sees that stupid looking dog monster thing that Buck swears looks just like him.) It takes him a few minutes of searching, but he finds the group that's been searching for Buck, buried under a few other larger tsunami groups.

For a second, he sees the pictures, the blood on Buck's face, has to lean back and breathe.

The air had tasted like salt, like mud, like death, moisture that sticks to the back of your throat that makes you so, so thirsty. Eddie hadn't even known that Christopher was in danger, had no idea. How could he have not known?

On the coffee table, his phone lights up with a text.

_Buck: maybe I should get him this instead??_

Attached is a picture of a massive Lego set, Buck's panicked face beside the price tag like he's actually considering getting it for-

Eddie fires off the text so fast his phone nearly slides out of his hand.

_Diaz: Don't you dare_

The next text is immediate and emoji filled, which isn't an answer.

_Diaz: BUCK_

The five minutes that pass before Buck's answer does very little to inspire confidence in Eddie. Visions of Lego forever and permanently strewn about the house and attached to his feet dance in his head.

_Buck: I want his birthday to be great. I want to get him something he's really going to love._

Goddamnit, how is he supposed to give Buck space, to step back before he goes (falls) too deep when he says shit like that?

_Diaz: He will love whatever you give him, as long as you're there to celebrate with him. Kid thinks you hung the moon. You're his favorite person ever._

_Buck: He's mine._

_Buck: and i mean. youre great too or whatever_

Normally, he'd rib back, crack a joke about how little Buck's indifference towards him doesn't bother him in the slightest, maybe state that Carla made casserole and was therefore his favorite anyways. But after this morning, after Cheryl showed them a Facebook group, honesty makes its way out instead.

_Diaz: You're amazing, Buck. Thank you for being in our lives. I mean it._

Buck's answer of _lol lay off the beer diaz youre toasted_ makes his gut twist. If Buck thinks Eddie has to be drunk to thank him for everything he's done for Eddie, for Christopher, then Eddie is just going to have to thank him more often. That's not space, not backing off, but it's true, and Buck deserves to hear it so he'll say it. Often. Loudly.

And in the Facebook group, Eddie follows the rabbit hole down, getting lost in the events pieced together by these survivors. A map of Buck's heroics, never mentioned before, never known about until now. Buck has never spoken about any of this, to any of them.

For someone who talks all the time, Buck never really seems to say anything that's not _I'm okay, I'm fine._

Buck pulled her from under a collapsed building. Him down from a tree. He set this person's broken leg and carried them three blocks to safety. Broke the window of the coffee shop with a brick to clear a path for a group to escape before the ceiling caved in. Scaled a mountain of debris to pluck two scared siblings up and reunite them with their father.

Every time, he called for Christopher, and left when he wasn't there.

 _Dripping blood as he went_ , that guy says.

 _S_ _aved my life_ , says this woman.

Buck has never said _anything._

The next text that lights up Eddies phone is from Cap (if Bobby is texting him then it must be important, Bobby never texts) and it says _I have an idea._

The text after that says _Okay, *Athena* has an idea._

* * *

The thing is, Eddie knows he's not straight. He always has.

As a teen, hormones going crazy, he first thought being attracted to guys was just that- a hormones thing. It happens. Teenaged boys will hump just about anything. His father explained to him that the urges, those feelings, would go away once Eddie was settled down with a woman (the quiet disappointment on his father's face was enough to make him agree- yes, _of course_ these feelings _will_ stop). But then he got older, more mature, and even after he and Shannon were married it still happened. Sometimes walking down the street he'd pass a man and something in him would stir, like a switch flipped in his brain: _ooo, yes, that one, I like that one._

After Shannon was gone and women were completely off his radar for a while, he experimented a little. He kissed a few men at clubs, at parties, in quiet, dark corners. He definitely likes more than just women. But even though he and his wife were separated at the time, he always felt guilty enough to stop before it went too far.

He's not ashamed of it, or the people he's experimented with. It's not a shameful thing in the slightest. It's just... never come up before.

At least, not in a way that's proving to be so impossible to ignore. He can admit that he's attracted to Buck, that part's not a big deal. It just is. The sun is hot, water is wet, and Buck is attractive enough to make everyone around him question their sexuality at least once. He's pretty sure half the straight guys in the station are attracted to Buck.

There are labels, now. Words for the various levels of attraction to various genders, and Eddie loves that, that people can put words to those feelings, name them and know what they are. He's sure not what label, if any, applies to him. He's just... not straight.

He's just, just

Hopelessly pining and lusting over his best friend is what he's doing.

Beside him, chatting away over the headsets, Buck has no idea about any of it. Eddie's (traitorous) feelings for him, or the fact that Eddie, Bobby, and Athena are definitely up to something sneaky, texting each other constantly, phones sliding into pockets or under tables when anyone walks past, Bobby suddenly always on Facebook even if he never seems to post anything.

" _The Sandlot_ is a classic," Buck declares.

"It's okay," Eddie says easily. "Not my favorite, but it's not bad."

"Not your fav- you love baseball! It's a baseball movie, how can you not love it?"

The scramble out of the rig is comical, everyone desperate to shed as many layers as allowed in concession to the sun that is still high and bright.

"I liked it when I was a kid. Haven't seen it in a while to be honest." Maybe if he turns around, looks somewhere, anywhere else, his brain will cool off. He manages to stow his gear properly and get halfway across the floor before Buck catches up.

"Oh, we can fix that. I've got it on Blu Ray, I can bring- uh. You can borrow it. Christopher would probably like it."

"Bring it when you come over on Friday. We'll make a night of it."

"...you sure? I don't wanna intrude or be around too much. I'm already coming over for the party."

Honesty, Eddie remembers. Honesty, not space is best for Buck right now. He can deal with the damage he's dealing himself later. All that matters is getting Buck to hear him, to listen when Eddie says he's welcome.

"You are always welcome," he says, level and clear, eyes on Buck's. "Anytime."

Buck hesitates, like he thinks Eddie will take it back, or change his mind, or do something insane like tell Buck not to come over with a movie. But he smiles before he drops his gaze. "Right on- we can order from that taco place, too."

"You're addicted to that pico, man."

"Like you wouldn't eat your weight in that guacamole. Which- fair. That shit's amazing."

Bobby brushes past them, eyes on his phone. "Good limes equals good guac," he tells them, fingers moving across the screen.

Buck stops dead. "Bobby, are you- are you _texting_? Holy crap, mark the day, Captain Nash finally comes into the 21st century!"

A caught look flashes across Bobby's face. He pauses for a split second. "Yeah, well. Comes with having teenagers, I guess. Sacrifices are inevitable," he shrugs, stowing his phone in his shirt pocket. "Neither May or Harry answer unless I text them."

"Wait until you start to FaceTime."

Bobby's brow furrows. "Is that another Facebook thing?"

Hen, ever and always the smartest of them all, picks up on it immediately when she catches Bobby later messing around with messenger on his computer (honestly, Bobby sucks at covert stuff- Athena had gotten everything out of him within five minutes of him coming home). She corners Eddie in the kitchen, arms folded, brows raised in that Hen way that lets Eddie know he is not getting out of this without answering some questions.

Below them, he can hear Buck and Chim arguing over the perfect pancake batter and the correct flipping technique as they restock the trucks.

"Okay. I know something's going on. Bobby has been acting squirrely as all hell _on Facebook_ for a week when we practically had to strongarm him to even use his damn profile, and you look like you've been caught with your hand in the cookie jar. Spill it."

Eddie considers outright lying. Just for a second, but he considers it.

Judging by the look Hen is giving him, she knows, so he thinks better of it.

"Hmmm," Hen says, eyes narrowed. Something about her stare makes Eddie want to shrink into himself, like she knows every dirty thing he's thought about his best friend in the past year. Does she give her kids this stare? How do they get away with anything? God help her patients when she graduates medical school- Gregory House has nothing on Henrietta Wilson.

Hen smiles, suddenly, and Eddie swallows around a very dry throat.

"So it's about Buck," she says, forever and infuriatingly all-knowing.

Eddie breaks out into a cold sweat. Considers a full-on retreat of hauling ass right out the door like the brave little soldier he is.

"And Athena has her planning face on lately," Hen continues thoughtfully. "Are you guys planning a-"

"Shhh!" Eddie throws a sharp look over his shoulder. He can see Buck by the ambulance, counting IV packs out loud to Chimney, seemingly absorbed in the task, but Eddie's not about to take the chance that anyone overhears who isn't supposed to.

Hen's interrogation is frightening, but Athena on the war path is something Eddie is going to actively avoid _at all costs._

"Yes," he hisses. "I- we- a woman came station last week and Bobby..." Eddie stops, because how do you even start to explain this?

"Bobby...?"

He can find the group with his eyes closed, now. Forty-nine strangers that owe Buck their lives, who searched for two years for the mysterious stranger that saved them all. He barely has to glance at his phone at all to send the link to Hen.

It still kills him that Buck has never said anything, ever, about any of this. The only thing to ever leave Buck's mouth about the tsunami is _I'm sorry, I lost him, I'm so sorry-_

Nothing, not once, ever, about any of the people he'd saved, dug out, dragged, carried, or bullied to safety before moving on. Only ever speaking of his failure- people he couldn't save, bodies he had to walk past, Christopher being ripped away in the water, falling off the firetruck.

 _I lost him, Eddie,_ fear in his eyes, hands and voice shaking as he stands, injured and ripped up, and waits for Eddie to pass judgement.

Hen barely manages to close her mouth against the shock when Buck bounds up the stairs, pausing to plant a kiss to her cheek as he passes.

"The ambulance is fully stocked Hen, my love," he declares proudly. "And your partner is never allowed to cook you pancakes."

"Hey!"

"Honestly, I probably shouldn't even let you cook my sister pancakes. How dare you turn her into a cinnamon walnut person."

"Your sister loves my pancakes," Chim informs him, smug smile fading into something so unbelievably fond. "At least, the baby does."

And Buck just lights up, seeing his sister's partner so in love with her, so happy to be with her, so ready to treat her right.

Buck loves people with everything he is- with his entire being. Whatever girl he directs that love at is going to be swept right off her feet, powerless against the tide. If the woman Buck chooses is worth anything at all, she'll know what a gift she's being given, and she'll hold onto Buck tight, love him right.

If the thought hurts Eddie's heart, he'll deal with it quietly, in the privacy of his own head.

"Oh hey, Christopher's party is Monday," Chimney suddenly remembers, turning to Eddie. "Is it still cool if we show up with piñatas?"

"I think Christopher is more excited about the piñatas than the cake," Eddie says honestly, forcing his gaze off Buck and onto Chimney. Whacking a brightly colored cardboard animal until candy falls out? It's all the kid's been able to talk about since he heard about it. "He might actually refuse you entry if you show up without them."

"Good, because Maddie is on A Mission to find him a nutter butter filled piñata. She even threatened to make it over the weekend if she couldn't find him one. She'll do it, man. She's got the supplies all ready and everything." A quietly guilty look passes over Chimney's face. "I might have demolished one of the bags of nutter butters. Maybe two."

"She used to make mine for my birthday too. We'd stay up all night with newspapers and glue, eating more candy than we put into the piñata," Bucks says absently, rooting in the fridge. "Hey, who ate my leftovers?!"

Something about the overly casual way Buck says it makes Eddie's chest constrict.

"Maddie would?" Hen asks, ever so casually tucking her phone back into her pocket. Across the room, Chim pulls his out. "What about your parents?"

"Nah, they weren't too interested in my birthday." Buck pulls out a tupperware and opens it, sniffing experimentally. "Does this smell safe to you?" he asks, holding it out to Eddie.

"No poaching leftovers, Buckley," Bobby chides from the stairs.

"Someone poached mine first!" Buck protests, already putting the tupperware container back. "Man, I was really looking forward to it, but I should have known better. It was fried chicken. I knew it wouldn't be safe."

The overwhelming quietness coming from Chim doesn't blip on Buck's radar, but Eddie can see the hard way Chim swallows, blinking fiercely before cramming his phone into his pocket. He marches towards the stairs with a purpose, fast and quiet, not looking at anyone as he goes.

"I might be able to whip something up," Bobby is saying as Eddie quietly exits behind Chim. "But you know the minute I drop the chicken into the oil we're gonna get a call."

"Cap, come on- fried chicken!"

"If I say yes you're with me on kitchen duty. Including cleanup."

"For fried chicken, I'll wash the dishes myself."

Eddie finds Chimney ten minutes later on the padded bench between the shower stalls and dressing area, head dropped onto his hands, phone beside him, screen just fading off.

"He never _said,_ " Chim says hoarsely, eyes flicking to Eddie. "About any of it. His parents, I get some stories from Maddie, but the tsunami? These people in this group who are rightfully calling him their hero- Jesus, Eddie, did you read these stories?"

"I did."

"And?" Chimney is on his feet, fast and angry. "What are we going to do about this? We-we have to do something... oh my god, Buck, only you would save fifty people in one day and talk about nothing but what you did wrong-"

The words come out of Eddie like a whipcrack, fast and unstoppable.

" _He didn't do anything wrong._ "

"Have you ever told him that?" Chimney demands, eyes hot.

"Every time. He never believes me." Eddie scrubs his hand over his face, anger and loss gnawing at him. "He didn't do anything wrong, Chim."

Hen inches into the room, eyes closed. "No, he didn't, but I can promise you that ain't how that boy sees it. There's apparently a plan that's been brewing nearly a week, and Athena says you need to bring Maddie into the fold too. Are we alone in here? I'm not about to open my eyes if we aren't."

"Hang on, gotta put my dick back in my pants-"

"You're so nasty," Hen cackles, eyes opening. "Come on, our resident firehouse puppy has convinced our captain we deserve from scratch fried chicken and potato salad for lunch."

Eddie honestly doesn't think he can eat, not with his gut churning the way it is.

Hen pats his shoulder. "Buck noticed you running after Chimney. He's worried about you."

Of course, of _course_ he is. They can see it so easily when he turns from the stove, eyes darting between Chimney and Eddie anxiously.

Eddie hates, with every part of him, that fear and uncertainty in Buck's eyes that never quite seems to fade no matter how bright the grin is.

But the smile, _oh_ the smile Buck gives them, the way his eyes light up when Eddie shuffles over and accepts his the knife for his chopping duties, the hip check Buck gives him, that teasing, flirty look Eddie wants to sear into his memory. That smile makes every damn miserable thing seem worth it, just for a second.

And with that second comes alarming clarity that stills the knife in his hand.

His crush on Buck isn't going away because it's not a crush.

Eddie Diaz is one hundred percent, fully and completely _in love_ with this man.

Oh, _fuck_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got this chapter written last week and after tonight's ep, and in preparation for buck begins (which will probably joss all the backstory I have built up lol), have an early chapter. Also, all the spanish I know I picked up from working in a restaurant as a teen, so like, I can order you some fried chicken with the white cheese dipping sauce but that's it. So I looked everything up. Apologies for any incorrect spanish!

"You're really not going to let me bake my own son's birthday cake?"

Eddie's not actually annoyed. Well, okay, he's a little annoyed. Cooking is hard, and no, he's not the best, or even good at it in the slightest, really, but he can follow instructions. Baking is just following instructions to the letter, and he can do _that_. He tells his grandmother so.

"I promise I can handle instructions on a box of cakemix."

Abuela's mouth thins. "No, Edmundo, you know better than to pull out a box cake when I am here. I am cooking Christopher's cake by hand- no box!"

"Okay, but I can at least help-"

" _No_ ," Pepa and Abuela say together, identical expressions of stubbornness on their faces. "You know better," Pepa adds. "Last time you left an eggshell in."

"Not on purpose," Eddie grumbles, shoving his hands in his pockets.

They're not wrong. He knows it, they know it. But still, with Abuela and Pepa handling the food, Buck setting up decorations in the backyard according to Christopher's specific instructions ("The facepaint booth should be away from the food so you don't burp food breath into the painter's face"), and Carla coming with the games, Eddie's feeling a little useless.

He appreciates the help, he does. He and Buck came off a twelve hour shift barely an hour ago, and Eddie has only just gotten out of the shower and into fresh clothes, so the extra hands with the party setup are more than welcome. Especially after the go go go of their shift. They'd barely had time to stow their gear before they were off on another call, and now the house is about to be pure chaos that he's going to have to clean later. He just wishes he had something tangible to do.

"You can always go help Buck and Christopher in the backyard. I think they're having far too much fun and not getting enough work done."

Christopher's laughter echoes from the backyard, mixing with Buck's. They've completely abandoned setup and are currently making flower crowns and daisy chains. Buck is carefully showing Christopher the proper way to layer the flowers and fold the stems. Eddie doesn't even realize he's smiling until he sees his own reflection in the window.

He doesn't miss the glance Abuela and Pepa give each other.

He's seen that look before. Nothing good ever comes from that look.

"What?"

"Nothing," Abuela insists, too casually. Pepa purses her lips. "Just wondering when you will finally take that nice man outside on a real date, Edmundo."

"Wh- _Abuela_ -"

"We'd be happy to babysit Christopher. Overnight, even."

The strangled noises he's hearing seem to be coming from him. How about that. "Dios, _tía_!"

Abuela matches his tone. " _Eddie_. Dios, boy, we can see how happy he makes you and Christopher. You're a good match-"

"And he's so handsome," Pepa adds.

"Oh, si, si, es importante, muy guapo! You already have once a week time with him and Christopher, es muy bien. You two need to take time for yourselves, too- just the two of you."

Eddie covers his face with his hands and actively wishes to be struck by a lightning bolt. Any or all acts of god would be great right about now, just to make the moment end. "This is not happening," he moans.

Abuela, unbothered, continues to gather cake ingredients. "He's good, Eddie. And he loves you both, so much. Anyone who looks can see that." She smiles out the window at the chaos reigning from the two in the yard, glances over her shoulder at her stunned grandson. "We chat, you know. On the Facebook thing- en espanol even. He's a very good man."

He knows. Oh, he knows just how good a man Buck is.

The fact that Buck chats with his grandmother online is every kind of unfair. It does things to heart.

That thing about Buck loving people with his entire self? Yeah, Eddie knows he's included on that list. It's not the way he secretly- or not so secretly, as it turns out- hopes for, but he's grateful for it nonetheless. Sometimes, he can't help but feel the love Buck pushes out at the world (he wants to grab more of it, always more, for himself).

His phone sits heavy in the pocket of his jeans, Athena's latest marching orders waiting in his texts, his Facebook inbox full of strangers telling him all about his best friend, things his best friend has never said.

In the backyard, Buck picks Christopher up and swings him around, whooping.

"He doesn't want me," Eddies says, finally, out loud. Whatever fantasy he has in his head, whatever he might want, it comes down to that one thing: Buck doesn't want Eddie the way Eddie wants Buck.

Eddie knows it's true. Buck never does anything in half measures. He's impatient and reckless, and he always goes after what he wants. When Buck is focused on a single goal, nothing gets between him and whatever he is chasing: a person trapped in flames, a five story drop he doesn't hesitate to leap over, steering Pepa gently but firmly to the door, getting Christopher into bed, off to school. The tsunami and forty-nine people who tell a story that Buck never has proves that. If Buck had ever wanted him, Buck would have chased him (and Eddie, easily, would have been caught).

Abuela makes a dismissive noise. "And how do you know that, hm? Have you asked him? Have you told him that you are an option?"

"No, I never asked him, but-"

"But nothing, Eddie. How is he to know to chase you if you don't tell him he should?"

Grandmothers are scary, sometimes, the way they simply take the truth and bend it like that. Eddie's never even told Abuela he likes men.

She has a point, a wonderful point he could absolutely take advantage of, a piece of hope to cling to. He's a selfish asshole, after all. But he's not so selfish that he's about to rush headfirst into something that could go so, so wrong.

"I don't ever want to do anything that could damage Christopher's relationship with Buck. The last person I told that I... that I wanted them in my life, left. Christopher-" He breaks off, eyes closing. "Christopher was devastated, and I am never letting that happen again. No matter what I want, Christopher comes first."

That's probably the closest he's ever going to come to admitting what he wants out loud. To verbalize it anymore would give it too much power, and he has to work on starting to let go if he is ever going to get past it.

Because if he and Buck tried a relationship and it failed, it could cost Christopher Buck. It could tear apart their little firefighter family, a family that includes a Field Sergeant and a 9-1-1 dispatcher as well, people he doesn't want to lose. There is more to consider than his own wants and the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes it's such a bad, bad idea.

He wishes that was enough to make him stop wanting Buck so much.

Pepa's hand on his back is oddly soothing. Reminds him of when he was younger, sick on a trip to visit the cousins, and tía sitting with him all night, rubbing his back until he fell asleep. She strokes her hand down his shoulder and back up, face soft. "Eddie, you're a good man, a good father. You deserve happiness too. And if he is right outside, then why not go to him?"

"Tía it could go so wrong-"

"And it could go so right. It's worth a chance, no? Buck would never-"

Buck stumbles in, breathless with laughter. "Maddie says she's on her- hey." One glance at Eddie's face is enough to know something is off and his smile is immediately gone. He comes inside fully, glancing between Eddie and Pepa. "Everything okay?" he asks, all concern and big blue eyes and so close Eddie could just reach out and take his hand, pull him in, bury his face in that broad chest.

"Yeah," Eddie says thickly. "Just... old memories. I'm okay," he adds, before Buck can say anything.

Buck slants his gaze to Abuela for confirmation, who merely smiles and continues to whisk the batter.

"Evan, I promise." Eddie squeezes his shoulder. Makes sure to let go fast, to not clutch or cling.

He has to be okay. He has to be. If he's not okay, then the entire mood of the party will sour, Christopher's good mood will fall. This is not the time to start moving into heartbreak- he needs to finish setting up for his son's birthday party, not the pity party he's currently hosting for one.

With a shake, Eddie forces his thoughts to quiet. Today is about Christopher. Everything else is just background noise.

Buck nods, slowly. "Okay," he says, totally convincingly. "Uh, Christopher wants you."

He allows himself to be dragged outside into the bright burning heat and despite the ache in his chest, he finds a smile for the birthday boy when he scoops him up, presses kisses into his hair. "Feliz cumpleaños, mijo. When did you get so big?"

"Yesterday," Christopher tells him, arms wrapped tight around Eddie's neck. "Buck says I grow every time he sees me."

"You sure do, mijo. Every day you get bigger and bigger." He can't believe he's allowed the privilege of being here every day for it. To watch Christopher grow and learn. To be able to raise his son surrounded with so much love from family- the blood family, the family from the station, and Buck, who is so much more, who is everything.

His job means a lot to him. Being able to save lives, to do good every single day fills him with such pride, lets him hold his head up high. But Christopher, Christopher is everything. Everything he needs.

"Te amo, papá," Christopher says into his neck, and Eddie has to remember how to breathe. How lucky is he, to have such a wonderful, amazing child? How could he have ever left him for even a second? How could he be so selfish, to want more love from others when Christopher's is more than enough? (It should be enough.)

Never again, Eddie swears. He is never, never leaving Christopher again.

"Te amo." Eddie kisses Christopher's cheek, his nose, his forehead, everywhere he can reach, each one getting louder and more noisy until Christopher is giggling and squirming. "I love you, son. So much."

Everything stops when Eddie glances at Buck. He swears time pauses, just fucking _stops_.

Because Buck is looking at Eddie- no, at Christopher, he's looking at Christopher- with such joyful, beautiful, open, awestruck love that Eddie's heart stutters painfully in his chest.

What Eddie wouldn't give to have that look on Buck's face forever, to be the one to put it there.

Buck loves Christopher so much. And Eddie will never, ever jeopardize that.

That doesn't stop him from _wanting_ , with every part of himself, to step closer to Buck, Christopher between them, and hold them both. He can't, he shouldn't, but he wants to so badly he feels like he might just die.

Buck leans in.

Kisses Christopher's head.

"You have the best dad in the world," he says in a stage whisper.

Christopher beams up at father with a face full of love. "I know," he whispers back, planting a noisy kiss on Eddie's cheek before he leans back and kisses Buck's too. Eddie steps closer and so does Buck, both men meeting in the middle to support him completely. "I love you too, Buck. You're magic."

The look on Buck's face- the desperate hope, no small amount of disbelief- just shatters him. "Love you too, Christopher." He wraps an arm around Christopher's back slowly, like he thinks he's not allowed, ready to back off the minute Eddie tells him to.

Eddie yanks Buck into the tangle of his and Christopher's limbs and clings desperately to them both.

"Te amo," he says, again and again and again, head buried somewhere between Christopher's hair and Buck's shoulder "te amo, te amo, _te amo_ -" He's a selfish asshole, he knows it, and he knows that he can't, that he shouldn't- he has no right to say this, to cling to Buck like this, to hold him in place, hold him back from the amazing future waiting for him. But he says it to them both. And pretends, just for one second, that they are both saying it back.

* * *

The mess in the kitchen is truly astounding.

Buck can't stop staring, mouth open. "How? _How_? I swear the kids stayed outside like the entire time."

And yet, there are small, frosting-coated handprints all over Eddie's cabinets.

"Kids are messy," Eddie says, yawning. He's been ready for bed for the last two hours, but there's too much to do first. If they think the kitchen is a mess, Eddie's actively avoiding looking in the backyard until the cousins can come over tomorrow to help him right it.

They decide to divide and conquer- Eddie gathering dishes and leftover food, Buck taking down decorations and collecting trash. LA settles into it's nightly routine as things are collected and scrubbed and put away. Down the hall, Christopher sleeps off what proved to be an epic sugar high that had required two stories from Eddie and one from Buck to get his eyes to droop.

"He had the best day. That bug kit you got him was a hit."

Buck has to pause to yawn before he can answer. "Shopping for kids is easy when you never grew up yourself."

"Easy? You dragged Maddie to every toy store in two counties looking for the perfect gift."

Caught, Buck gives a sheepish grin, stepping on the trash to make a little more space in the can. "Just wanted it to be perfect, you know? He's so great. He deserved the best birthday. They can really suck for a kid if the adults don't really care." Something about the way he says that, like it's an undeniable truth, hits Eddie like a kick to the gut.

When Eddie is tired, his brain doesn't often engage the 'stop talking' filter. To get around this, he usually stays quiet the more tired he gets. People around him mistake him as being the silent type when the truth is he's just so tired he knows better than to try and speak. Silence is better. Silence is safe. It usually works. Usually.

"Your parents weren't too big on your birthday," he remembers, turning away from the mostly empty sink. Almost a week has passed since Buck's offhand comment at the station and Eddie hasn't been able to stop thinking about it.

Buck freezes, pile of wrapping paper balled in his hands. He looks almost ashamed. "Uh," he says, quietly. "No. Not really." The wrapping paper crinkles loudly between his fingers.

"Why?" Eddie is genuinely confused.

The paper sails over his head and lands neatly in the trash. Buck shrugs, going for careless, but the movement is too jerky, too heavy. He doesn't quite meet Eddie's eye, staring instead at the pile of paper plates on the coffee table he's yet to gather and toss.

"They... aren't too big on me either." The smile Buck gives him is hollow and false. "They're not too bad, they just love Maddie more. Not enough left for me, I guess. I know I'm pretty great, so. They don't know what they're missing."

"They don't. If your parents can't see what an amazing person you are, then they are shitty, sucky parents who don't deserve you in their lives."

The words ring out, nearly echoing from Eddie's conviction. All trace of teasing falls from Buck's face, the empty grin sliding away. He blinks, but Eddie doesn't drop his gaze as he crosses the room, stepping right up into the other man's space.

Touching Buck is usually a bad idea. Not because he doesn't want to touch Buck, but because once Eddie gets his hands on Buck he never wants to take them off. Now though, a hand on Buck's arm seems like the right move to make- a simple touch to ground them both (Eddie ignores the livewire that's suddenly snapped to life under his skin).

"You are incredible, Buck. You're driven and passionate and brave. Funny, kind, and so full of love." Under his fingers, he can feel Buck's pulse hammering. When had his hand trailed up to Buck's neck? When had he gotten close enough to feel Buck's breath on his cheek? "Anyone who can't see that is an damn fool. Your parents don't know what they're missing. We are so lucky to have you in our lives. I'm so lucky."

Buck sucks in a shuddering breath, eyes glassy. "No, no, Eddie, _I'm_ the lucky one- to have you and Christopher. I'm so lucky that you let me in your life and-and I know I'm a lot, but I promise you, I swear if you ever tell me to go I will-"

Both hands come up now, carefully framing Buck's face. Eddie gently turns Buck's head until Buck looks him in the eye. So much fear, lurking in those eyes. Some churning in him, too. He knows he's in dangerous waters, so close to being pulled under. Anxiety makes his hands want to shake, so he gently, gently, traces his thumb over the smudge of red on Buck's skin.

Eyes fluttering shut, Buck leans into the touch, hands coming up to grip Eddie's wrists. (Damn his imagination, damn his brain for making him think, for a split second, that Buck wants this too.)

"I like having you around," he says instead of _stay, stay with me, stay forever, don't ever, ever leave us_. "You deserve to be loved."

It's so easy to wrap Buck up in his arms, to return the desperate hug like he's done it a thousand times before. Buck is warm and solid under his hands, his arms wrapped tight around Eddie's chest. The younger man shakes a little, but Eddie holds him tight.

"Anyone who doesn't love you is a fucking idiot," Eddie says fiercely into his shoulder. "You are a goddamn gift, Buck- don't shake your head at me. A _gift_. I don't know what I would do without you."

If this were a fairytale, a tv show, a movie, he would be allowed to kiss Buck right about now. But it's the real world, with sirens in the distance and helicopters flying overhead and his son asleep down the hall. The dishes in the sink aren't going to wash themselves, the leftovers aren't going to put themselves away, and Buck does eventually step back, wiping his eyes.

"I-" he tries, hand falling to Eddie's elbow. Eddie's hand still hasn't left Buck's shoulder and they stand there for a moment, gripping each other tight despite the distance between them.

"I don't know what I'd do without you either, Eddie. You or Christopher."

_I lost him, Eddie._

Eddie so badly wants to promise him that he will never have to find out what life is like without them.

"Right here, man. Whenever you need me. Always."

They right the house in silence, finishing up everything that can't be put off until tomorrow, careful to always be across the room from one another. Eddie feels nervous, worried he's pushed too far, that Buck will run away instead of staying close now, but Buck collapses onto the couch looking like he has every intention of staying. He's probably just too tired after everything to drive home, but Eddie doesn't care. Buck's staying for now, that's all that matters.

He's asleep by the time Eddie shuts off the lights, snoring lightly in the dark. And in the morning, there are pancakes waiting and his son's rolling laughter spilling from the kitchen, Buck's off-key singing almost enough to rattle the windows.

"Did you trick Buck into making pancakes, mijo?"

"He offered to make them," Christopher insists around a mouthful. "He even let me stir the batter."

"My pancakes apparently suck," Eddie tells Buck on his way to the coffee maker.

Buck laughs. "So I heard." He winks at Christopher. "But that's what you have me for. I make excellent pancakes. Trust me, once you try these, you won't anyone else to make you breakfast ever again."

Eddie tries to picture anybody else barefoot in his kitchen, singing terrible pop songs at the top of their lungs and feeding his son pancakes. Tries to think of anyone else he could just trust in his home, in his life, with Christopher like this. But it's just Buck, only Buck, who fits so perfectly in the hole Eddie hadn't even realized was there until now.

The pancakes are excellent, and in the end Buck is right: Eddie never wants breakfast from anyone else ever again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My wife talked me into an early update. It wasn't hard.

_9-1-1, what's your emergency?_

_My neighbor's house is on fire! It's on fire! Oh my god, it's everywhere!_

By the time the 118 pulls up to the fire it's engulfed one house, part of another, and is dangerously close to getting to a third one barely separated by a patch of grass and a lone dead tree. Neighborhoods like this, where the houses were all crammed together with little space between them, fire easily travels from building to building. If they don't soak the neighboring houses, the entire block could go up.

Across the street people huddle together, watching in horrified fascination as the flames dance and consume. The sun looks almost dim compared to the orange blaze. Bobby's mouth is a firm, thin line as he assesses. He takes one deep breath and then the orders start flying out.

"Diaz, Buckley, suit up. Dispatch was advised there are at least two people trapped in one of these houses, possibly more. Masks on, radio channel open. When you hear the evac order, you _get out_." His tone books no room for argument. "Wilson, Han, get prepared for a bad time."

One look at the fire and anyone can tell that whoever is in there will be coming out with moderate to severe injuries. If they come out at all.

"How did this happen?" Eddie asks, grabbing his air tank.

Behind them, one of the houses makes a noise like the entire foundation snapping in half.

"We'll find out later. Right now, focus on finding anyone alive in there. The rest of you, lets get some hoses pointed at these other houses to contain the spread."

The fire is so large that sending anyone in is a bigger gamble than normal. They wouldn't be going in at all if they didn't know for sure that there were people trapped inside, if they didn't think there was any chance of getting them out. But there is a chance, however small, so in they go. Even so, they're only going to have a handful of minutes to search as much as they can before the survival rate drops to zero.

Beside Eddie, Buck grabs his axe, mask already in place. Eddie can't help but double checking Buck's air as Buck cranes his head to check his. Their eyes meet once, quick, before they nod and run into the flames, just under the arch of water soaking the roof.

To the right, the roar of flames can be heard. The fact that whatever room is over there has its door shut is the only thing keeping this exit clear. If that door goes at any point, they could be trapped by a wall of flame.

Buck doesn't even hesitate, just begins searching room to room. "LAFD, anyone in here?"

Eddie pauses to listen, but anyone who's been in this pitch black for longer than two minutes is going to be unconscious. The smoke is so thick it's impossible to see more than a few inches in front of him. It's going to slow the search down considerably and they just don't have that kind of time.

He swears he can feel the floor vibrate from the flames.

"I've got one," Buck's voice says over the radio. Eddie is close enough to hear Buck speaking without the radio but he can't see him. "Unconscious female, massive burn trauma, doesn't appear to be breathing." It's hard to hear over the air hissing, the house breaking and cracking in the heat. Eddie has to tilt his head towards his shoulder to make it all out. "Coming out the front."

"Confirmed, Buck. Diaz, copy."

"Go for Diaz."

"Only one missing, exit's still clear. You've got two, maybe three minutes before the house is gone and we pull you out."

"Copy, Cap. Moving to the back of the house now."

He clears two rooms, stomach dropping further with each one. If he can't find the victim soon, he's going to have to leave empty handed for his own safety. It leaves a bad taste in his mouth- a different one from the overly sanitized air currently on his tongue- but the fire is worse towards the back of the house. He won't be able to search every room without risking spreading the fire even more.

"LAFD, anyone in here?" He yells anyways, knowing the chances of finding anyone alive are slimming by the second. Visibility is getting lower the longer he stays in. It's even worse further back. The beam of his light shows nothing but a wall of black ahead.

"Firefighter Buckley- clear," his radio says.

Eddie cannot afford to focus on the relief right now so he lets it rise and drop just as quickly. He has to keep moving around hotspots trying to come to life, inching his way forward in near total darkness. He feels like he's barely made it two feet before the fire shifts, embers dancing left instead of right. Everything has been swallowed in the smoke. He can't see his hand in front of his fucking face. The heat is suffocating.

His radio crackles. "Diaz-"

God _dammit_.

Bobby's evac order falls on deaf ears when Eddie spots the shape near his feet. The fire shifting cleared the smoke just enough for him to realize it's a human form and he's moving. He leaps over another hotspot, kneeling next to the body. He feels the sickly cold feeling wash over him when he sees what's left of the boy's face- because it is a boy at his feet, no older than twelve.

There's no time to do anything other than yank the boy close to his chest, rolling to his feet with the kid in his arms. Eddie latches onto a speck of daylight in the distance that he knows is the exit and charges forward.

Behind him, those hotspots he leapt over on the way in burst to life. The house is done for, there will barely be a _wall_ standing, and if they don't get out right now they are not going to get out at all. If he doesn't make it, he can't go home to Christopher and he swore he wasn't ever going to leave him again.

The flames lick at his turnout gear. He keeps running, eyes locked on the daylight ahead despite the sweat running in rivets into his eyes.

Eddie bursts onto the lawn, the sun almost blinding him, eyes burning in the sudden light after such darkness. He nearly runs into truck before he can convince his legs that they don't have to run anymore, feet sliding a little in the mud that's started to gather on the sidewalk.

Hen takes the boy, mouth already moving. She probably doesn't even realize it's Eddie beside her, eyes only for her patient.

The house folds in on itself barely thirty seconds later.

Eddie rips his mask off, sucking in greedy gulps of LA air and shoving his helmet off his head. His heart is pounding, his mind and body pumping adrenaline despite the relative safety of the asphalt under his feet. The shakes will probably start soon if he doesn't regulate his breathing, but he can't seem to get his lungs to cooperate.

"Fuck," he gasps, bending over to grip his knees. In and out, Diaz, in and out.

He had just been _in_ there. He'd almost left before he found the second victim. He thinks his coat might be smoking faintly, but he's sure it's just his imagination.

Chim has him by the elbow and is directing him to sit before Eddie realizes what's happening. The world spins slightly when he tries to look up, spots dancing and growing before his eyes, so he dips forward, head dropping between his knees.

"Ah, ah, no." Fingers snap in front of his face, and Eddie blinks as the O2 mask is secured. "There ya go, look right here and breathe deep." Chimney is smiling, but his eyes are serious and assessing. He holds the mask over Eddie's mouth until he's sure Eddie is going to leave it there.

The oxygen seems to be doing the trick and within a minute or two Eddie is able to sit up straight. Chim pulls a pen and a pen light out of his chest pocket, points them both at Eddie. "You know the drill, follow the light with your eyes."

"I feel fine, Chim."

"Yeah?" Chimney takes Eddie's pulse without looking. He raises a brow in challenge. "What's my legal name?"

He finds a smile just as the fire finally lays down to die. Somehow, the other house is still standing, the neighboring houses singed and waterlogged. "I'd believe you if told me it's actually Chimney, Howard."

"There he is." Chim jots the vitals on his glove before reaching for Eddie's turnout coat. "Burn check time. Strip it off, cowboy." Neither of them mention the pieces of burnt skin clinging to the outside of the coat when they drop it, the haunting impression of someone's face cooked onto the material.

With a groan- deadlifting a twelve year old is not as easy as one would think and his left shoulder is definitely unhappy with him- Eddie allows himself to be looked over and prodded. Chimney finds, cleans, and bandages a burn on his forearm Eddie doesn't remember getting. He's just cutting the gauze when Buck comes around the side of the rig.

He must not convey _I'm okay_ with his eyes well enough because Buck kneels beside him, eyes raking him over, hands hovering but not quite touching.

"He's okay," Chimney says before Buck can ask, taping the bandage in place. "Okay, your shoulder's a little swollen but nothing's broken or dislocated, got a second degree burn on your forearm, but your oxygen is fine and your BP is calming down."

Buck winces at the bandage around Eddie's right forearm. "You sure he doesn't need to go to the hospital?"

"He," Eddie announces, slipping the mask off, "is fine, Buck. No hospital needed for a simple burn." He rolls his shoulder to check his movement. There's a radiating twinge of pain, enough to probably warrant a day of light duties with an ice pack on hand, but nothing to go to the ER over. "And the shoulder is fine, too."

"Wouldn't be a bad idea to go in for an xray, but I'm not gonna waste my breath." Chim stands, shedding and dropping his gloves. "You get to skate on cleanup duty, though. Rest it, ice it, stretch it. Make sure he doesn't overdo it on the stretching, Buck."

Torn between amused and annoyed, Eddie squints at Chimney even as he accepts the bottle of water offered to him. "What, I need a babysitter now?"

"Between the two of us, which one has cut a rescue line before? Oh, _right_ , that would be you."

"Okay, yeah, point. How's the kid?"

Eddie knows the answer before he asks; he saw the boy's injuries. Half the boy's face is stuck to Eddie's coat for god's sake. He's a fucking medic, so he knows and yet he still lets himself hope that maybe, maybe he'd gotten there in time, made some kind of difference-

Buck's hand brushes Eddie's good shoulder when Chimney answers. "We couldn't save them. Either of them."

Eddie doesn't think about it, just lets his head drop to Buck's shoulder, lets his eyes close against the sight of smoldering remains that used to be someone's home. He just wants to sit, just sit with his head on Buck's shoulder, Buck's arm around his back, and just rest for one minute. Luckily, Buck lets him, just holds him.

And still, they have to keep going. Have to take the next call, go to the next emergency. If they stop to think about all the bad stuff for too long, it will swallow them whole. So they take a minute to cling and breathe while the last of the smoke fades away. Buck's hand grips Eddie's with white knuckled strength when they finally stand to help stow the gear. They have a job to do, and this is part of it.

"Can't save everyone," Buck says softly, squeezing Eddie's hand once before stepping away. "I knew that going into this job, and still."

"It sucks every fucking time." The bandage around his arm is tight. Under it, the burn throbs in anger.

They move on because they have to. They get into the rig to get to the next call because, in the end, this is what they want to do. Even after calls like this, this is what they want to do.

* * *

Switching gears to planning an award ceremony after a hard call shouldn't be so easy, but it's hard to plan an entire ceremony in secret even with Athena at the helm, and it's getting down to the wire now. Weeks of planning and sneaking around are finally coming to a head, and sneaking around Buck has proved to be hard. They've had to designate a person for distraction duty each shift to keep Buck away from everyone else long enough for them to get anything done.

Currently, Eddie's injuries prevent him from doing more than firing off emails and reconfirming the guest list instead of setting up the banquet hall and running errands all over town like he's been doing, but he's never been happier to stare at his damn phone for so long. Maybe if he thinks about the people Buck saved on the pier he'll stop thinking about the two people they just lost.

It's a flimsy hope, but he'll take what he can get.

"The Chief is in," Bobby tells them, anxiously glancing over his shoulder. Distracting Buck has fallen to Hen today, so she and Buck are cramming for Hen's midterms, perched on the rig's bumper downstairs, thick text book open between them. "He's going to put a commendation in personally."

"Good." Athena checks off another item from her list. "I've heard back from Cheryl. Final count of survivors able to come is forty-one according to her and Eddie, and Chimney is setting up some kind of streaming thing for those who can't make it. The catering company is all set- I checked on that on my way in, and the banquet hall is booked." She pauses, looking over the list again. "You know, we might actually pull this off, and after only a few weeks. Where the hell was this focus when we were trying to plan our wedding?"

"You got me. I was just happy to marry you-"

Feet coming up the stairs makes them all pause. Chimney appears, slicing a hand over his throat several times, pointing behind him silently and then they are all scrambling, shuffling papers, darting to different parts of the room and elaborately arranging themselves to appear more casual. Bobby runs straight to the fridge, opens it, and buries his head inside like he's looking for the secrets of the universe behind the creamer.

Eddie barely manages to throw himself onto the couch, hoping it looks normal. How does he normally lay on the couch? Does he always tuck his arm behind his head or that a weird thing he's doing now in his panic? Shit, shit, the tv's off, he can't just stare at a blank screen. He grabs blindly at the magazine on the coffee table, opens it to a random page just as Chimney throws himself across the chair, phone propped up in front of his face.

Athena just barely gets the clipboard back into her purse right as Buck clears the top step.

"Hey, Athena," he greets easily, stopping to give her a quick hug. "How's life on the force?"

"Oh honey, world's as crazy as ever."

"Don't I know it. Yesterday, we got a call about a guy who'd gotten his arm stuck in one of those bank tubes. Apparently he got all mad about the slow service and tried to climb _inside the tube_ to get at teller. It took us forty five minutes to cut him free. Who even does that?"

Eddie realizes the magazine he grabbed is not only one of Chim's tech magazines he can't make heads or tales of, he's also holding it upside down. Smooth.

"And what're you up to today?"

"Helping Hen cram for midterms. I just came up to make her one of those fruit smoothies she likes- she's really stressing."

Resident firehouse puppy, in action. Even Athena melts just a little.

Bobby finally unburies his head from the depths of the fridge. "Well, then isn't it a good thing I made sure we got plenty of pineapples? You have to clean out the blender as soon as you empty it," he adds quickly.

"After I get the smoothie to Hen."

"Uh-uh. You always forget to clean the blender." Chimney reaches over to nudge Buck in the arm. "Last time you made one of your protein shakes in the blender, we had to _get a new one_ to get rid of the taste."

Playfully outraged, Buck starts slicing up the pineapples. "That had nothing to do with me- the powder was bad."

"How does _powder_ go _bad_?"

Eddie closes his eyes against the familiar bickering, head falling against the back of the couch. Fatigue curls up next to him like a living thing, limbs and eyelids growing heavy instantly. Maybe he should nap before the bell sounds, or hell, through the bell. He is on light duty for the rest of his shift. Even has the ice pack on his shoulder and everything.

A yawn escapes him, powerful enough to make his ears pop.

It's just the adrenaline fading. Losing two people on a call and nearly being in a house as it collapsed is a bad time, but it's not the worst they've had (they're literally planning a secret awards ceremony for Buck, who most definitely has had worse than a fire that took a house and a half down with it). Plus, if he falls asleep now he might miss a message from one of Buck's rescues that needs to be passed to Athena.

So, no nap. The blender just kicked on anyways, and he's not nearly tired enough to sleep through that.

He jolts awake nearly two hours later, curled neatly into the arm of the couch, something soft bunched up under his head.

On the coffee table is a thermos of coffee, doctored just right, with a note under it that says _drink me_ in Buck's handwriting. When he sits up to reach for it, Eddie realizes the makeshift pillow that someone had wedged between his head and the arm of the couch is Buck's hoodie. The hoodie Eddie had definitely seen him peel off himself and stuff into his locker that morning.

Which meant someone who could get into Buck's locker went downstairs, got it out of said locker, came back up the stairs, and put it under Eddie's head. Then came back and left him coffee. Three guesses who.

Buck tucking him in and brewing him coffee to wake up to might be the sweetest fucking thing that's ever happened to Eddie.

Is it any goddamn wonder his heart tries to do the mambo whenever he thinks about Buck, ever?

"Hey, sleeping beauty."

Somehow, Eddie did not notice six feet of Buck in the chair beside him, thumbing through Hen's monthly bad trashy romance novel (that everyone reads and pretends not to, just like Hen pretends she doesn't leave it in the common area for that exact reason).

"Hey. Thanks for..." Eddie looks down at the hoodie still clutched in his hand, thinks of Buck holding his hand as they watched the house fall, making him coffee, picking up his son and swinging him around, saving fifty people during a tsunami and never saying a fucking word. "Just. Thanks."

Buck accepts the hoodie, pulls Eddie to his feet gently. "Oh, don't thank me yet. _I_ have strict orders to drive you home, heat up Bobby's chicken masala, and make sure you eat it after you ice your shoulder. Before you say no-" he adds in a rush, like Eddie would ever, "these are Athena's orders, so there's no use in arguing. Also, she might actually lock me up if I don't do this."

Right now, he doesn't have it in him to turn Buck away. He wants the company, and he wants the company to be Buck. Even if Buck makes some kind of excuse now, tries to go home alone, Eddie will just flat-out ask him to stay with him.

"Only if you're okay crashing on the couch that does not smell again," he says, trying to hide the wince when his shoulder pulls. Judging by Buck's face, he doesn't pull it off. "That fire was... Well. You know. Christopher is at Abuela's and I really don't feel like being alone right now."

Buck takes a single deep breath. "Yeah. Me either," he admits. "Wanna pig out and pretend we'll be okay by tomorrow?"

"Yes. Please."

Eddie is definitely feeling the post adrenaline drag. He very nearly falls asleep on the ride home with his head propped against the window. Buck basically carries him inside, dropping him off at the couch on the way to the kitchen.

It's painfully domestic, and very comforting, to hear Buck rooting around in the kitchen: turning the oven on, consulting the instructions Bobby had given him, muttering under his breath as he goes. He doesn't have to ask where anything is. He's been here enough to know, so at home that he doesn't even have to think about it.

"Do you know what's going on with Bobby?" Buck asks suddenly.

Eddie opens his eyes. "Bobby?"

"Yeah. He's... I dunno, he's just been acting weird lately. Kinda shifty, like he's got a secret or something. He's also been extra nice, have you noticed? Usually when he does that, it's a big secret. He was like that when he and Athena first got together, remember?"

It's a very good thing that Buck is in the kitchen behind him because Eddie is way too tired to turn his face off and he cannot think of a good lie to save his damn life.

"Maybe he's just been in a good mood lately. That does apparently just happen."

"Maybe." Sounding unconvinced, Buck checks the rice. "Hen's been kinda weird too, extra talky. I just thought it was med school and the new baby, but now that I think about it, Chimney's been off too. Real quiet. And yesterday he let me have the remote, he never does that. And they have all been _glued_ to their phones lately."

Thanks guys. A plus on the stealth thing.

"I wonder if something happened. Something with all three of them? No idea, but I'm positive something happened. Or is happening." The oven dings, taking Buck's attention. "Bet Athena knows, but we wouldn't get a thing out of her."

"Oh, Athena definitely knows," Eddie agrees as he stands. His brain catches up a second later and he hurries to add: "Pretty sure Athena knows everything, so whatever those three are up to- if anything- she probably knows all about it."

The smell of good food cooking, the sound of Buck's laughter, and the feeling of warmth spreading through his chest helps ground him. He feels steady on his feet for the first time in what feels like years.

Eddie watches him putter around, checking the rice and warming the dishes in the oven (apparently that's a thing you can do), creating outlandish theories to explain the behavior of their friends that range from Chimney secretly being a supervillain to Hen's new baby being a literal vampire.

"I don't think Nia's a vampire." Somehow, after everything, Eddie is laughing right now.

Buck dishes up the food and they both dig in, smiling. "Okay, fine, but Chim could totally be a supervillain."

"Oh yeah, side job for sure."

"You know- oh my god this is _really good_ \- last time we talked about side jobs, Hen said I'd be a gold retriever."

Eddie sits back, considering Buck. "Wow, yeah. Right on the money." It's the most accurate thing he's ever heard in his life.

"How?"

"It's literally so perfect. I can't believe I've never seen it before."

Buck groans. "Not you too- no one will explain it to me!" He scoops up the last of the curry in a huff, shaking his head. "Why a golden retriever, specifically? Why not a-a Beagle or a Pit Bull or something?"

"Well." Eddie swallows the last of his beer, leans in like he's telling Buck a secret. "They're loyal, for starters. Smart, always happy, great with kids. They make good working animals. And they _love_ to get affection, almost as much as they love to give it. You can't be sad around a golden retriever- they won't let you. They always make everyone feel happy, no matter how crappy of a mood you were in before, and they are always there for you when you need them." He leans in a little further, nudges Buck's shoulder with his. Lets himself stay against him. "See? Golden retriever."

For a long minute, Buck stays silent. He doesn't move away or shift but keeps his shoulder against Eddie's. When he does adjust, it's not away. He leans _in_ , pressing his thigh against Eddie's as well, inclining his head so that if either of them moved, even just a little, their foreheads would brush.

(What would Buck do, he wonders, if Eddie closes that scant distance between them and presses their lips together? Would he allow it? Would he come even closer?)

"That's quite a compliment," Buck whispers.

"It's all true," Eddie whispers back.

Buck's chuckle sounds a little wet. "You keep throwing all these compliments at my feet, I just might start believing you."

" _You should._ God, Buck, if you knew how incredible you are-"

"But I'm-"

Eddie takes his hand. Squeezes hard. "You _are_. I've never known anyone like you-"

 _I lost him, Eddie_ , he'd said.

And nothing, _nothing_ , not even two years later, about the people he rescued.

And finally, Eddie knows why.

Buck went to those people without thinking. Just an automatic thing, to go towards someone crying for help, to try and fix whatever he can before moving on to fix something else. He doesn't accept thanks or praise because he _doesn't think he deserves it_. He thinks he's not _worth it_. Buck believes that the absent-at-best love his parents gave him is all he will ever get, is all he will ever deserve.

It couldn't be further from the truth. If it is the last thing Eddie does, he will get Buck to believe him.

Slowly, their fingers weave together on the table so they're holding hands properly. Slowly, carefully, Buck leans in, resting his forehead against Eddie's, eyes drifting closed.

There goes Eddie's damn imagination again, making him think he can see Buck's pulse jumping at his neck. He's just projecting, wishing so desperately that he thinks he can see his own wants reflected back at him. Thinking that Buck wants anything more than what they have right now.

(Painfully quiet, a voice whispers to him _what if he does_ but Eddie can't afford to pay that voice any mind, even as Buck brushes his thumb over Eddie's over and over again.)

"You, uh. You should get some rest," Buck eventually says, eyes still closed, hand still firmly in Eddie's.

"Yeah," Eddie agrees, closing his eyes and breathing Buck in. "We both should."

They don't move for a long, long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all SO much for the love y'all are giving this fic. I haven't written anything in five years and this just came pouring out of me. I was so nervous to even post it- I almost didn't! But the love everyone is showing is really keeping me going. Thank yoooooou ;-;


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, this was gonna happen in a few chapters but who am I to deny these idiots? I think they've waited long enough.

It's really unfair to have the man you love working out behind you while you're doing your best to keep secrets from him. Eddie can hear Buck grunting softly, counting and breathing through squats with that lazer focus he gets and it is _very_ distracting to know Buck is so close.

He's avoiding Buck for entirely selfish reasons. He's trying to convince himself it's so he doesn't accidentally spill the beans about this weekend, but he knows that's not true. It's just that the more time he spends with Buck, the more he doesn't want to not spend time with him, the harder it it not to blurt out _I love you_ every time Buck smiles, breathes, blinks.

Small blessings though- Eddie is doing pull ups with his back to Buck. He doesn't trust himself to not openly ogle right now (Buck is wearing that sleeveless shirt that clings to his chest and shows off his arms that Eddie swears is a size too small). Tired is an understatement for how he feels, but it's not a physical kind of exhaustion. Eddie is almost completely drained mentally and emotionally.

The details are all in place for the award ceremony. Everything is set, paid for, and ready. All that's left to do is wait for this weekend when everyone arrives and keep Buck from finding out about it (Hen and Chimney might literally murder him if Buck finds out about everything now and Athena would let them get away with it). In order to keep Buck in the dark, however, they have to all act completely normal.

Which is... not going well. After weeks of sneaking around, secret plans, huddled meetings, and sometimes outright lying to Buck lately ("sorry Buck, not tonight, Christopher and I are working on his science project" or "I'm tired, I just want to go home and crash" and pretending the split second of disappointment Buck shows before he covers it doesn't cut Eddie in half), the entire crew is feeling some strain. Even knowing they're working on something _for_ Buck, keeping it from him is proving to be the worst part of the entire process.

And Buck's not an idiot. He knows something is going on, he just doesn't know what it is. The other day he'd outright asked Bobby if he was okay while they scrubbed at the dishes, and it hadn't even Buck's turn for cleanup duty.

"Oh, just worried about May. She's freaking out a little about college applications. She's talking about going out of state now and it's driving Athena up the wall."

Buck had accepted the explanation with little more than a long look and a nod, but he clearly wasn't ready to let the matter drop. He stuck close to Bobby the rest of the shift, which had made it easier for Eddie to duck in and out, phone basically glued to his ear.

Eddie's gotten really good at ducking away when Buck comes close in the past week. It's not a pleasant skill to have.

He doesn't like turning his back on Buck ever, even to take a phone call from Cheryl, but it's necessary. He can be honest with Buck and give them both space at the same time. Buck needs the honesty, but Eddie needs the space. He can make it work. He's making it work. He's just got to figure out how to ignore his feelings and focus on just being Buck's friend again. That's just gonna take a little time is all, and he's using the time to get things perfect for the ceremony.

But once he figures out how to do just be Buck's friend, once he can turn off his stupid fucking heart that just _ruins_ everything for him, then everything will be fine.

He's dealt with heartbreak before.

He can handle it.

Eddie's really glad Buck hasn't cornered him yet about his own behavior. He knows he's acting odd, knows Buck is confused and a little hurt by Eddie basically blowing him off all week. And if he asks, if he presses the issue, Buck won't accept any answer Eddie gives him at face value. He'll dig and pry until he gets the truth, until he get to the heart of the issue.

Between a secret awards ceremony and trying to keep his feelings locked up inside, Eddie's not sure he can manage to lie to Buck one more time. Something is going to give, and soon.

Luckily he only has to make it a few more days. All will be revealed Saturday night, towards the tail end of their shift, and then Eddie can go back to just tamping his feelings down. No more secrets besides that one to keep hidden. It'll be much easier once the other secret is out in the open.

Eddie grabs his water and chugs it, eyes fixed on the foosball table across the way.

Easier. Right. When does being in love with your best friend ever get any easier?

For forty-five minutes, Eddie throws himself into an intense workout. He's pushing it a little, but it's not the first time he's channeled emotional turmoil into physical activity. Hell, it's pretty much his go-to release whenever his eyes linger on Buck just a little too long or his imagination goes a little too wild with the what-ifs. It keeps him in shape, keeps him busy, and keeps his hands off Buck. Win-win-win.

Of course, his frustration only fades when his walking distraction _doesn't_ follow him to the gym and start using the equipment too. Right now, he's only getting more wound up and he's not even looking at Buck.

Fuck, hearing Buck breathe through his workout is enough to send a sharp spike of lust right through Eddie's skin.

Eddie pushes himself through another set of lunges and pushups and an extra set of burpees before he makes himself stop. If he keeps going he's going to overdo it and even though it's almost shift change, he doesn't want to risk hurting himself right before a call. Or worse, being unable to pick up Christopher for a hug when he goes home.

"Pushing it kind of hard today," Buck says. He's focused on putting the weights back, eyes on his task. "You alright?"

Eddie doesn't turn around. "Yeah," he says.

The second it leaves his mouth, he knows Buck isn't going to buy it. Of course he won't. He knows Eddie better than anybody, and Eddie has obviously been hiding something. Buck's noticed. He always notices.

Buck whirls to face him. "Bullshit." His fists clench at his sides, eyes pinning Eddie in place. "What is going on? What is it _with_ everyone lately?"

"Nothing, Buck. Everything's fine. Everyone is fine."

Buck snorts. "Yeah, okay. No one is talking about any of it with me so it must be nothing."

Aggravated, tired, Eddie sighs harshly. "Maybe they just don't want to talk to _you_ about it."

He immediately knows he's fucked up.

Buck's face goes carefully blank. Everything just slides away until his eyes and mouth are both flat, a perfect mask that does not belong on that open, expressive face. Eddie could kick himself.

"Wait, no, Buck-"

Eddie doesn't catch up to him until the shower room. Buck's already stripped his shirt, gathering his shower supplies with jerky movements. He glances at Eddie, then away.

"Buck," Eddie tries again. He's not sure what he's going to say, but he's not going to just leave Buck like this. He's got to tell him something, smooth this over somehow. You're supposed to be helping him realize he's amazing, not making him pull away from everyone. _You're the one who needs space; Buck needs you to be here for him._

"You don't have to tell me," Buck says into the empty room. He slams the door shut. "I shouldn't have pried. Whatever it is, I don't have to know."

When he goes to brush past, Eddie stops him with a hand on his chest. It takes some force, some effort to stop Buck in his tracks. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

Buck shakes his head. "It's fine, Eddie-"

"It's not." Eddie stands in front of Buck to block him, hand pressing firmly into Buck's chest to halt his movements. "That came out really wrong. You're right, there's something going on, and I'm stressed out and tired, and I just took it out on you."

Buck considers him briefly. Looks away again. "The last time you shut me out, you nearly killed someone," he says quietly. "You had every reason to cut me off, I know that. I was a dick, and so fucking stupid-"

"Buck-"

"-and I will _never_ forgive myself for that stupid fucking lawsuit," Buck continues. "I was an idiot. But you told me that next time you would come to me, and everytime I've come near you this week you've turned your back or left the room entirely. I don't know what I did, but whatever it is, please, please talk to me about it."

"You think _you_ did something?" Astounded, heartbroken, Eddie gapes. "Why would you even think that-"

" _Everyone_ is avoiding me! Every time I get near Hen, Chimney calls me over but won't look me in the eye, and every time I try to talk to Bobby, he leaves to answer the phone he's suddenly attached to. And you just _leave_. You walk away, or pull out _your_ phone, and then I've suddenly got a new task to do. I know I did something, but no one will tell me what it is!"

Fuck. _Fuck._

"Hey, listen to me." Eddie grips both of Buck's shoulders in his hands. He waits until Buck meets his gaze before continuing. "You have not done _anything_ wrong. I swear to you. I promise."

Buck shrugs him off, backing away. "Then what? What's going on?"

If he has to lie to Buck _one more time_ -

Not telling Buck that he's in love with him isn't lying. Eddie's just keeping that fact to himself to avoid losing his family, the dynamic they've all built that works so well for everyone. He can't just toss a grenade into the middle of that and blow things up because he can't handle his feelings.

It's not a lie to not say anything. He can keep it under control.

It's all under control.

"With Bobby? I dunno. Probably something at home Athena asked him not to talk about. Hen, I figured with the new baby and med school she's suffering from lack of hours in the day. Chimney's just distracted- he just found out he's going to be a father. No one is avoiding you. Everyone's just in their own heads."

Buck steps closer then, eyes intense and right on Eddie's. "And you?" he questions, that same intensity and focus from earlier all pointed right at him. "What's going on with you? And don't say you're fine. I'm so sick of you being 'fine' when something is obviously going on with you." Buck swallows. Drops his gaze. "With us."

No, no.

Don't do this _now_ , please, not now.

Please, he's so close. He's so close to getting through this week and letting that secret out. It's just a few more days; he can do this. Buck deserves this, to get this medal, this party, the recognition. He deserves to know that he's amazing and if it takes secretly planning a party for him to see that, then Eddie will sacrifice sleep and work until he drops to make it happen and keep his mouth shut about the ache he feels whenever Buck isn't there. He can give Buck more space _after_ , he can get further away _after_ this.

Don't take Buck away _now_ -

"With us?" he repeats, voice barely a whisper. Buck still won't look at him.

"Something's changed," Buck says. "I don't know when it happened, or why, but something... something's different now, and I don't know how to fix it."

If Eddie isn't careful, he's going to lose Buck either way.

"It's not you. It's not you, it's me- I'm being weird. It's all me."

"Eddie."

The nervous babble that is trying to spill out his mouth dies when Buck steps into his space and leans in. Finally, Buck looks at him again, eyes raking over Eddie's face.

"What is going _on_?"

Eddie's heart starts pounding so hard his hands begin to shake. Anxiety and panic roars to life in his veins. He can't lose Buck, ever, and especially not because he couldn't control himself, keep his emotions in check. He has to close his eyes against the worry on Buck's face.

Breathe, breathe.

"Is it because of that house fire last week?" Buck's voice is quiet. He sounds hesitant. "If I overstepped or made you uncomfortable, I'm so sorry."

He sounds _afraid_.

Eddie's eyes shoot open. "Why would I ever be uncomfortable around you?"

Buck _looks_ afraid. And that? That's just unacceptable.

"Because we- you were just trying to be nice, to comfort me and hold my hand, but I made it this _thing_ after I just invited myself over _again_ and refused to leave and- and now everything is off. You won't come near me, you won't look at me. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Eddie. I shouldn't have-"

Eddie surges forward, intending to grab Buck, maybe to soothe him, maybe to shake some sense into him, but Buck flinches slightly and Eddie freezes immediately.

"Buck." He sounds like he's been swallowing broken glass. Lets his hands drop. "What are you talking about? You have never made me uncomfortable." He swallows thickly. "How many times will I have to tell you that you are always welcome until you believe me? I want you around. I'd tell you if I didn't." _Why don't you ever believe me-_

He knows why. He knows why Buck can't believe him yet, but he's trying so hard, but Buck just never believes him.

Buck bites his lip. "Then why can't you stand to be in the same room as me lately? In the rig, going to calls, you barely talk to me. We haven't hung out since I spent the night, since- I thought I weirded you out."

"It's not you Buck, I swear to god. I-" Eddie struggles to find the words, to not just blurt it all out. "I'm coming to terms with something and I'm struggling a bit. It's nothing you did."

"Talk to me. Maybe I can help."

And that winds up being too much, and now Eddie _does_ back away. He backs into the sink, hand covering his mouth to muffle the humorless laugh that escapes. Of course Buck offers more, always more. Eddie has to stop taking so much from him.

"No, Buck. You can't help with this."

Buck steps closer. "Try me," he insists. "You're my _best friend_ , Eddie. Whatever it is, I am here for you. If we can get past the lawsuit, we can get past anything so long as we talk about it. I _can't_ lose you or Christopher again. I _won't_."

Don't say it. Don't, don't, _don't_.

"I already lost him during the tsunami and I promised- I _swore_ \- that it would never happen again."

Eddie's heat just shatters.

"The tsunami wasn't your fault," Eddie snaps out. "Nothing that happened that day is your fault. You didn't _lose_ Christopher, he was taken from you. And you fought like _hell_ to get him back, Buck. You didn't stop until you collapsed. You almost fucking died because you lost so much blood."

Buck rescued forty-nine people and he still blames himself because he couldn't keep Christopher beside him during a natural disaster. He still, _still_ carries around guilt he has no business feeling. He's waiting for forgiveness that will never come. Eddie never forgave him for the tsunami because there is nothing to forgive, but Buck is still waiting.

"We got through the tsunami," Buck says, but they didn't, they haven't, not if Buck still thinks he has anything to be blamed for (Saturday, he reminds himself. Saturday Buck will be told all about the tsunami from different perspectives and maybe then he will _finally listen_ ). "We got through the lawsuit. I don't care what it is, just tell me so we can move through whatever this is."

Eddie's breath is shaky. "What if it's worse than the lawsuit?" The tips of Buck's fingers brush Eddie's forearm. It's the only point of contact between them. "What if it's something we can't recover from?"

"What could _possibly_ be worse than-"

And Eddie can't hold it back anymore. Because the only way to get Buck to believe him is to tell him. Buck is so, so loved, and he _doesn't believe it_.

"I'm in love with you."

The silence that follows makes his ears ring. Buck's hand freezes on his arm, then drops. Eddie's stomach bottoms out around his shoes and he knows everything is broken now, but maybe, finally, Buck will believe he is worth being loved. That he is loved, even if it's Eddie that loves him.

"N-no. _No._ You can't-"

"Yes I can. I _do_."

"You _can't_ -"

"Why the hell _not_ , Buck?"

"Eddie, I-I'm not worth it-"

And there it is.

Now Eddie grabs him, now Eddie steps into his space. But Buck doesn't run away, doesn't flinch, and it's enough for Eddie to press forward.

"Don't you dare say that. Don't you fucking _dare_. Anyone who ever made you feel like you weren't worth loving is a fucking idiot. If I was ever one of those people then I'm a fucking idiot too. It's _not true_ , Evan. It couldn't be further from the truth." He leans in further, lets his nose brush Buck's. "Christopher loves you. I love you. I want you in my life in _whatever_ way I can have you."

It's out now, and he's not taking it back. He won't.

"I'm not worth _you_ -"

He's not sure if the sound he makes is a sob or a laugh. "Oh no, mi amor, I'm the unworthy one, I assure you." Carefully, slowly, Eddie brings his hand to Buck's face.

Buck lets out a shaky breath. "You _love_ me," He says- _says_ not asks like it's in question- in the quiet. His hands are trembling nearly as much as his voice is. "But... _I lost him, Eddie._ "

"And then you got him back. _Yes_ , Buck. I love you. I am _in_ _love_ with you. I know you don't want this, and that's okay, I just need you to hear me, god, listen to me for _once_. You did nothing wrong. The tsunami, Christopher going missing? Was _not you fault_. I don't blame you. I have never blamed you. I love you, Buck. You are worth loving." When Buck stays quiet, eyes wide, Eddie barrels on. "And listen, nothing has to change. I swear to you, you will not lose Christopher over this. I would never take him from you just because you don't want me, because you don't want-"

Buck kisses him.

It's quick- a simple pressure of lips against his, the glide of skin on skin. Eddie barely has time to register it happening before Buck steps back, eyes anxiously searching Eddie's.

Eddie doesn't let him get more than a breath away before he's closing the distance again, grabbing Buck around the hips and slanting their mouths together hungrily. Something has to break, something has to give, and that chaste kiss was nowhere near enough release after everything being pent up for so long.

And _oh_ , this one is much less chaste. Eddie pours weeks, months, _years_ of want and longing into this kiss. His hands grip Buck's hips tight before one arm slides around Buck's back to draw him impossibly closer, reveling in the warmth of Buck's skin under his fingers. Buck's hands fist in Eddie's hair, tilting Eddie's head back just slightly to deepen the kiss. The first touch of Buck's tongue to his has Eddie's knees going weak.

 _This_ is definitely _not_ his imagination.

This is much, _much_ better than anything he's ever imagined.

"Don't tell me what I do and do not want, Diaz," Buck says when they part, still cheeky despite the nerves clearly crackling through his system and the dark blush spreading down to his chest. His grin quickly turns sheepish. "I uh, probably shouldn't have done that at work though."

Right. Work. They're still at work. There are people everywhere and anyone could walk in at anytime to see them tangled up in each other. "Probably not," Eddie agrees with a smile, refusing to let go of him.

A quick glance at his watch tells Eddie they're both technically off shift, but the shower room- or any other area at the station, at all- is not the place to have the conversation that's about to come next (not the best place for a first kiss either, but neither he or Buck have ever been typical).

Also, they both smell kind of ripe and really should shower. Eddie wants to smell much, much better if there is going to be more kissing in the near future. He really hopes there will be more kissing in the near future.

"Then come home with me, stay for dinner. We'll talk. We clearly need to."

Someone walks past the door, muffled chattering fading as they pass. Eddie slides his hand down to link with Buck's, their fingers slotting together so easily and doesn't even glance at the noise.

Buck sighs and squeezes his hand. "I thought..."

"What?"

Embarrassed, Buck covers his eyes. "I thought you were straight," he admits, hesitating for a second to see if Eddie corrects him. "I felt like such a fucking cliche, falling for my straight best friend. What kind of Hallmark movie did I think I was living?"

"Yeah, well. Same. Guess we're both idiots."

Buck starts to laugh in earnest. "You thought _I_ was straight? Eddie, come on, do you even _have_ eyes?"

"If I say only for you, will it get me any points?"

"No," Buck says, and kisses him quickly. "I _do_ want this, Eddie. Want you. We should- wow, I really need to shower. Geez, I just got a whiff of myself. I have no business kissing anybody smelling this rank. You don't want any of that."

He moves to pull away but Eddie steps forward as he steps back, deliberately brushing his mouth against Buck's in a more firm, more sure kiss. Buck returns it, all but melting into him.

"Don't tell me what I do and do not want, Buckley. But yeah, we both reek. Hit the showers, and I'll meet you at my place. Okay?"

Eddie gets hit with Buck's mega-watt smile. That fact that it's for him makes it seem positively incandescent. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."

* * *

It's surprisingly easy to keep things normal at dinner.

They don't want to do or say anything in front of Christopher until they figure things out for themselves, not until the ground is a little more stable under their feet, so they make dinner like it's any other day. Buck makes a chicken stir fry and Eddie is demoted to dish duty pretty quickly, and that is painfully normal. Christopher tells them all about his day at school, happily going between chattering away and singing along with Buck's spotify playlist.

Eddie feels like a grade-a jackass, making Buck think he was avoiding him.

Well, he has been, but with over fifty other people involved on top of suddenly realizing his feelings, Eddie feels like he's allowed a little slack at getting overwhelmed. Besides, after this weekend Buck will know everything. Maybe after their talk tonight, after Saturday, that last bit of anxiety that's still hovering in Buck's eyes will fade.

Eddie's also anxious as all hell, knowing that Buck knows he's in love with him now. It hasn't scared him off yet but who knows if- _shut up_ brain, when has Buck ever run from anything that scared him? The man runs into burning buildings for a living. And, Eddie reminds himself somewhat smugly, Buck had kissed him first.

"Can we play Mario Kart after dinner?" Christopher asks midway through the meal.

"Is your homework finished?" Under the table, the back of Eddie's hand brushes Buck's, barely a featherlight touch.

Christopher goes shifty. "Mostly."

Buck sighs in pretend disappointment, turning his hand over to properly grip Eddie's. "Ooo, sorry pal. Video game time is only for people who finished their homework. Maybe if you can get it done before bedtime we can get a few rounds in if your dad says it's okay."

"It's long division. I _hate_ long division."

He does too. Loathes it with every fiber of his being. "I know, but you gotta do it, mijo. Here, finish your carrots and I'll help you with the homework, okay?"

Christopher scrunches up his face. "Can't I just do it tomorrow morning? I'll get up early."

"Nice try," Eddie laughs. Christopher is a morning person, but he still wakes up slowly and get distracted very easily when he's tired. If Eddie let him put off his homework until the morning, it wouldn't get done at all. "Homework after dinner if you want video game time."

"You have to help me, Dad."

"Promise."

Satisfied, if still slightly unpleased, Christopher resumes munching on the carrots. "Buck, are you good at math?" he asks.

Buck shudders dramatically. "No, I'm actually pretty terrible at math. I'm better with English and reading."

"You can help me with my book project, then," Christopher decides. "My English teacher says I'm supposed to get an adult to help me with it because I need to use online sources."

"What book are you doing your project on?"

"I don't know yet. I have a couple to pick from."

"Pick the book and I'll give you a hand," Buck promises, collecting Christopher's plate. "But now, you'd better get started on that long division if you want me to kick your butt at Mario Kart before bed."

Insulted, Christopher hauls his math book onto the table. "No, I'm gonna kick _your_ butt. Dad, tell him."

"I think if we don't get your homework done, your teacher is going to kick my butt. Come on, mijo. Let's wrap this up so you can show Buck who's boss."

They get the dreaded long division tackled and over with with little pain; half the battle is getting started and the other half is Eddie waiting for his brain to remember how to do it. When the math book slams shut Christopher basically teleports onto the couch beside Buck, controller appearing in his hands.

The laughter and whooping echoes throughout the living room for an hour and a half. Eddie uses the time to un and reload the dishwasher, wipe down the cabinets, and finally answer a few messages from Athena, Maddie, and Hen, as well as a couple from Cheryl while Buck is distracted.

He calls for controllers down at nine. "It's a school night, mijo. Bedtime."

"Okay," Christopher sighs hugely, putting the controller down with obvious reluctance. "Will you read me the dragon book again?"

"Deal, if you can get your teeth brushed and pjs on in the next five minutes."

Buck gets quietly shy suddenly, pulling Eddie into the kitchen the minute Christopher disappears into the bathroom. "He asked me if I'm spending the night again," he says in a rush. "I didn't know what to say. I didn't want to overstep or anything, but he's probably going to ask you too. He wants me to make breakfast. Is it okay?"

Eddie loves his son more than anything in the world. More than Buck, even. But right now, he really wants Christopher to go to bed so he and Buck can have that talk before Buck convinces himself that this won't work or that it's a mistake. He can practically see the doubts beginning to form and he wants to get those stopped before they really get started.

He knows what he wants, and that's the easy part. He wants Buck in every sense of the word: in his son's life, in his life, and in his bed. He doesn't see that changing any time soon. But if Buck wants something else, or changes his mind, or decides it's too much, then they stop. They have to both be fully in this for it to work, for it to even have a chance.

 _He kissed you first,_ Eddie reminds himself.

And suddenly, The Talk is just one simple question.

"What do _you_ want, Buck?"

Buck looks away, ashamed, and Eddie is having none of that. He reaches out to cup Buck's chin, to turn him back to face him.

"Hey, no pressure. Nothing you don't want, Buck. But I need to know that you _do_ actually want this. I need to know what you don't want so I don't push you too far. I don't want to mess this up."

"I don't either," Buck says immediately. Slowly, like he's waiting for Eddie to recoil, Buck reaches out and brushes his thumb over Eddie's cheekbone. "I... I want to stay, and not just the night. I want to be with you. I _want_ you. But I- I need you to know something first. I love Christopher-"

"Buck, I _know_."

"Please, just let me... I love Christopher. I- I love you. I want to be a family, a real family. You're Chistopher's father and you will always be his father. But if it's possible, if it's okay, someday I want to talk about helping with that too. I want you to know that I am in, Eddie, for all of it. I am _all_ in."

Eddie smile is so wide it hurts. He swears his heart bursts in sheer joy. Buck has offered him everything he wants, offered every part of himself to not just Eddie, but to Christopher as well. He hadn't even asked, hadn't even dared to want so much and Buck has offered it anyway. Always ready to give more, to just give everything to the people he loves.

Eddie is selfish. And he's going to take it.

"Buck." He covers Buck's hand in his own, tilts into the touch. "That's very okay. That's... that's what you've already been doing, and that's not about to stop. I just want to add _this_ into the mix." He plants small, quick kisses on Buck's mouth, lingering a little longer each time, unable to resist the pull of Buck's orbit.

Buck wants this. Wants _him_. They're together, going to give this a shot, _be a family._

Is it even possible to be this happy? Can it really be this easy?

"Oh, yes, _please_ ," Buck breaks away with a smile. "I've always wanted this."

Eddie sighs into the next kiss, slowly running his hands up Buck's sides. It's okay to want him now that he knows Buck wants him back, and Eddie has every intention of letting Buck know just how much he wants him in whatever way he can.

"I can't believe you thought I was straight-"

"Pot: kettle, Buck."

"You never said anything!"

" _Neither did you_ ," Eddie growls, shoving Buck against the counter. He boxes him in, pinning him between his thighs before leaning in to crowd him.

This whole time. He could have had Buck in his arms this whole time if either one of them had said anything.

Well, Eddie's done wasting time.

Buck's mouth crashes into his hungrily, no hesitation. He raises to his full height, forcing Eddie to tilt his head back, running his fingers through Eddie's hair to cup the back of his head and runs his tongue along Eddie's lips. Desperate for more, Eddie opens for him. A sound is building in his chest, climbing up this throat-

Buck leaps away, slapping a hand over his mouth, eyes wide with shock when Christopher's bedroom door opens. Eddie has to bite his lip to keep from bursting into startled, happy laughter despite his own frustration.

God, he feels like a teenager again, sneaking someone into his room while is folks were sleeping just downstairs.

"Dad, it's story time!" Christopher calls impatiently. "Come on!"

"On my way, mijo." Eddie stretches up to steal another kiss before heading towards Christopher's room.

He stops to give Buck a wicked look over his shoulder. "Oh, and Buck? Just so you know, you're never sleeping on that couch again."

Buck preens before the shit-eating grin that Eddie knows so well spreads across his face. "Does that mean we can talk about getting rid of that thing now? Because, damn, Diaz, this thing is rank. How can you not smell that?"

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Give the man an inch," he mutters, and goes to tuck in his son with a smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What was I gonna do- NOT post the get together chapter on Valentine's Day?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys. Is this smut? I haven't written in years and if this IS smut, it's my second/third attempt at it EVER so I am really sorry if it's bad smut D:

Eddie wakes to the feeling of someone trying to quietly slide out from under him and out of the bed. Before he's fully aware of the movement, his hand shoots out and latches on, yanking the other man back onto the mattress.

"Nope," he says.

Buck freezes, every muscle locking up. Eddie takes advantage of the stillness and worms his way back onto Buck's chest, head planted right on Buck's pec. He's heavy enough that Buck will really have to work at it to shove Eddie off him, and Eddie is not about to make it easy after he worked so hard to get Buck here in the first place.

"You said you'd stay. Not allowed to sneak out now."

He feels Buck swallow. Under his cheek, Buck's heart is pounding hard enough to jostle Eddie's head.

"Things tend to be different in the morning," Buck whispers. "Wouldn't be the first time someone asked me to say and then pushed me out the door when the sun came up."

"I'm not them, Buck." Eddie inches higher, nestling his head in the crook of the other man's neck. His arm clamps around Buck's waist. "I meant it- I _mean_ it. I want you here."

A shuddering breath escapes Buck. Eddie can feel the uneven exhale working through Buck's chest. They're quiet for a full minute and just as Eddie is getting worried Buck sags in relief, the tension bleeding out of him. His arm begins a slow journey up Eddie's back, fingertips just barely brushing the skin.

A hand in his hair has Eddie tilting his head back to look at Buck.

"Morning," he says with a smile.

"Hey," Buck says, breathless and hopeful.

How he lived every day of his life without a good morning kiss from Buck, he will never know. He returns it carefully, aware of the doubts that are obviously tearing their way into Buck.

"Did you mean it- about being all in?" Eddie asks him, pushing himself up onto his elbow.

"Yes," Buck says immediately.

"Then why were you trying to sneak out?"

Buck biting his lip is extremely distracting, so Eddie works his lip free with his thumb. It doesn't help much.

"Talk to me, cariño."

" _God_ , Eddie, don't say shit like that first thing in the morning-"

"Hmm?" Eddie lowers himself, nose just brushing Buck's. "Cariño?"

Oh, but the blush spreading all the way down to Buck's chest, turning him such a bright, pretty red, is everything to Eddie. Quite of its own volition, Eddie's hand slides from Buck's waist to his chest, fingers spread to explore. He scratches his nails slightly against Buck's stomach, watching the muscles jump.

"Got scared," Buck admits quietly. His hand is still in Eddie's hair, stroking slightly. "Things are always different the morning after."

"First of all, you're talking about the morning after people have sex for the first time and we haven't had sex yet."

Buck's lips quirk. "Yet?"

Eddie kisses him slowly now, licking into his mouth with a singleminded determination that spreads that blush up to Buck's hairline. He keeps his hand on Buck's chest, pressing him into the mattress firmly. Buck's fingernails dig into his back, hard enough to sting in the most pleasant way when their tongues tangle.

"Yet," he agrees when they part. "Believe me, I am ready for that whenever you want. And second of all, whoever you were with before? Their loss for letting you go. I'm not going anywhere, and I'm sure as hell not about to let you walk out now. I'm not that stupid."

Buck has his lip between his teeth again. "What do we tell Christopher?"

Eddie glances at the clock, does some quick calculations. "In about an hour, we get him up and feed him before sending him to Abuela's. Sometime in there we'll tell him the truth, and we'll tell Abuela too. We'll tell anyone who asks that I'm in love with you and we're together."

Astounded, Buck starts laughing. "Just like that? Eddie-"

"Just like that, cariño."

For a moment, Buck just watches him, eyes flicking over every part of Eddie's face. Eddie keeps his own anxieties down. It's a new relationship, a new dynamic, and neither of them exactly know what they're doing. It won't always be easy- in fact it's most likely going to get extremely hard before everything is all said and done- but if Buck is beside him through it then he can handle it.

He just hopes Buck thinks the same. He can't be the only one to have faith in the relationship. If Buck thinks they will fail, they will before they can even really get started.

In the soft sunrise filtering through the curtains, Buck raises up and captures Eddie's mouth with his.

"I love you," he breathes against Eddie's lips, hands skating up Eddie's back. "I am so in love with you. Okay. Just like that."

He knows Buck wants this too, but just hearing Buck say it is enough to make Eddie weak in relief.

"God, I was losing my _mind_ , I wanted you so badly-"

"You? Eddie, let me tell you about the hundreds of cold showers I've been taking-"

And Eddie's laughing, kissing him.

And then Buck is kissing him in earnest, all lips and teeth and tongue. Eddie drops, full weight pressing against Buck and returns it with fevor. He needs to get closer, needs to feel more, feel everything. Eddie tears his mouth away from Buck's to immediately latch onto his throat. Buck throws his head back on a gasp, tilting to give Eddie more access.

The hand in Eddie's hair fists. And _pulls_.

The sound that escapes him is one he's never made before in his _life_. Eddie doesn't even realize he's the one that made it until he comes back to himself enough to notice Buck's slack jawed look.

"Oh my god," Buck breathes, pupils blown huge. "That's so fucking hot-" and then he _does it again_.

Eddie sinks his teeth into Buck's shoulder to muffle the absolutely wrecked moan that comes out. Buck yanks on his hair again, and this time Eddie makes a high, keening sound, hips rolling, searching for friction. Buck's mouth begins a journey down his neck to suck at his pulse point, hands cupping the back of Eddie's neck.

"Touch me," Eddie bites out, turning his head to catch some part of Buck, any part, with his lips.

Busy sucking a dark bruise into Eddie's neck, Buck doesn't move when he _drags_ his nails down Eddie's spine. He pulls on his hair, hard enough to make Eddie tilt his head further back, and pulls away with a smirk.

"Aren't I already touching you?"

" _More_ ," Eddie demands, and surges forward.

The kiss is absolutely filthy, open mouthed and wet. It's made even more obscene when the last of Eddie's brain leaks out his ears and he begins to grind his hips against Buck's. He's brick hard in his sweatpants and the friction of Buck's erection against his is enough to make his eyes roll back in his head.

Buck's leg snakes around Eddie's hip, pulling him closer even as his hips snap up to meet Eddie's.

Another moan gets caught in this throat, escapes out his mouth. Buck is too busy nibbling on his earlobe to muffle it.

"I want-"

" _Anything_ -"

Buck's hand hesitates at the waistband of Eddie's sweats, then disappears underneath it to dig his fingers into the meat of his ass. Eddie's hips snap down, grinding onto the shape in Buck's boxers. Buck bites his lip hard in an attempt to stifle his moan, pulling Eddie down against him.

"Yes," Eddie all but purrs. " _Yes_."

He can't not put his hands on him. He _has_ to cup his hand around the back of Buck's thigh and pull it tighter against him. He _needs_ to get his arm around Buck's shoulders to lift him off the bed and crush him into his chest. Lust burns in him like nothing else, a five alarm fire in his body and Buck fuels him with every touch, every kiss, every small noise that escapes him.

Eddie's been told before that he's too quiet in bed.

This is not a problem he's having at the moment. He has to keep his mouth against Buck's shoulder, teeth digging into skin lest he wake the whole damn neighborhood.

Buck yanks Eddie down to crash their mouths together, muffling the whines neither of them seem to be able to stop making. Eddie takes the opportunity to get his hands around Buck's hips before he pulls experimentally on the fabric between them.

"Off," Eddie begs. He's lost the ability to speak more than one word at a time.

Buck must understand because a second later he has a very naked Evan Buckley in his arms and it's every single one of Eddie's dreams coming true all at once.

If Eddie doesn't touch his mouth to every inch of that beautiful skin, he's just going to die right here and now. But before he can move to begin, Buck stops him with a look, shimmying away.

"Buck?"

A flirty look, _the_ cocksure flirty Buckley smirk spreads across that beautiful face as he leans back, the picture of leisure and ease against the headboard. He slings one arm casually behind his head, making no move to cover himself. Looks Eddie up and down. "Strip 'em off, solider. I showed you mine, now I get to see yours."

Eddie moves to do so, hand immediately going to shove at the suddenly stifling fabric. Buck's eyes zero in on the movement, and Eddie stops, intrigued.

"You wanna look at me, Buck?" He cocks his head, hooking his finger in his waistband, teasing it down slowly. He shifts, turning to kneel in the center of the bed directly in front of Buck and runs his other hand over his abs in a deliberate drag of skin on skin, enjoying the way Buck's eyes follow him. He pulls at one side of the elastic, pushing it down barely an inch to expose the skin of his hip before pulling them down and off.

He strokes himself as he kneels, shoulders back, hips forward, fully putting himself on display for the other man to see. Blue eyes snap to his and Eddie is _lost_ to the heat, the naked want in Buck's gaze.

Even as he tries to tease Buck, to give as good as is being given, he cannot tear his eyes away from the scene before him. Buck is laying in an honest to god sunbeam, spread before him like an offering, and he's looking right at Eddie with nothing but heat and lust in his gaze, hand stroking his own cock.

"Oh, I'm always looking at you," Buck promises. He drops his gaze meaningfully to Eddie's weeping dick. And then the little shit licks his fucking lips. "Come here."

Eddie goes, but only as far as Buck's stomach before he stops to press a kiss to the tattoo on his side, another across his diaphragm before trailing down. Eddie digs his fingers into the skin at Buck's hips to pin him, tongue darting out to taste the grove of his abs, teeth scraping gently as he goes.

He continues further down, stopping to lavish attention to moles, to small scars he's never seen before. He pauses to worry a dark red mark into the seam of Buck's thigh, sucking hard, making sure it will bruise. Above him, Buck bites down on his fist and breathes deep to swallow the whine that builds the longer it takes Eddie to get to his destination.

What Eddie wouldn't give to make Buck scream his name as he comes-

But Eddie's door is only so thick, Christopher only so far away, so he presses a gentler kiss to the inside of Buck's thigh as he finally reaches out, taking Buck in hand. He's long, thick and heavy in Eddie's grip. Eddie squeezes, gently pumping his hand.

"That's it, cariño. Can you be quiet for me?"

Buck _whimpers_ when Eddie takes him in his mouth- a broken, wrecked sound, and Eddie needs to hear it again _yesterday_. He hollows out his cheeks and takes as much as he can, laving attention with his tongue as he goes. He keeps a steady grip on Buck, fingers exploring what his mouth can't reach, stroking and squeezing.

" _Eddie_ -"

Buck's hands shoot into Eddie's hair and pull gently before letting go. Eddie moans encouragingly around him, reaching for Buck's hands. Relaxing his throat, so fucking turned on he can't stand it, Eddie brings Buck's hands back to his hair, folds his fingers over the strands.

Like always, Buck understands. Buck knows him like no one else. Why would this be any exception? He knows what Eddie wants, what he's trying to do. He grips Eddie's hair tighter- just shy of painful- and directs Eddie to bob his head with a tug, trying to find a rhythm that works for them both. Every change of pressure on his scalp is a new movement, a new direction, and Eddie goes willingly.

Under him, Buck's hips make an aborted jump when he gasps and Eddie holds him down to avoid taking too much of him at once. He's going to have bruises from Eddie's fingertips, a physical reminder right there on his skin.

" _Eddie_ -" Buck manages, one hand releasing his hair to grip desperately at the headboard. "If you don't stop, I'm-"

Eddie swallows him down, sucking hard. The rest of Buck's warning dies off into a moan. Eddie doesn't stop, not until a spurt of warmth hits the back of this throat.

Buck slaps his hand over his mouth and comes with a muffled shout, hips jerking against Eddie's hands, arching up just a little too high. He practically seizes against the sheets, every muscle snapping taught and Eddie has to work to keep him pinned down.

Oh, they're definitely going to do _that_ again.

He barely has time to sit up and wipe his mouth before Buck is yanking him down and rolling them with ease. Eddie tries to pull Buck down onto him but Buck pins him with one quick motion, barely a roll of his shoulders, and hoo boy if _that_ doesn't sending a bowling ball of need straight to his gut.

Buck gives Eddie a dark look from under his lashes before leaning down and swallowing him to the base in one smooth movement.

" _Dios mío_ -"

Buck sets a punishing tempo, a fast pace that should be too much but somehow isn't enough at all. Eddie grips the sheet for dear life and loses himself into the heat of Buck's mouth, the slippery warmth of Buck's tongue dancing across him. The arm slung low across his hips pins him down, frustrating and thrilling him at the same time, stopping him from moving no matter how he hard he arches.

Fuck, if Buck can pin him that easily _with one arm_ he's going to have to start doing it all the time. And that's something else, something new to explore- later. When Buck isn't sucking his brains outs. When he can think at all past the exquisite heat wrapped around his cock, when something other than Buck's mouth around him matters at all.

"No pares, oh mi amor. Por favor no pares- _fuck_ , Buck-"

He's _loud_ when he comes. He barely has the presence of mind to clamp his teeth into his forearm to even try to muffle himself. It only kind of works.

When he comes back to earth, boneless and pleasantly lax, Buck is gazing at him with what looks like awe.

"That just happened."

"That it did."

Eddie wants to reach out, wants to gather Buck close, but keeps his hands still. He's reached out all he can, shown every card in his hand. This move needs to be for Buck, and Eddie desperately hopes it will be forward, not away.

Buck leans in. Kisses him soundly. He's smiling, eyes crinkling when Eddie opens his eyes.

"It was pretty fucking great," he says, cheeks stained bright red.

Eddie laughs. "Yes it fucking was." And draws him in for another kiss.

* * *

Obviously, they tell Christopher first.

Over a breakfast of scrambled eggs (made by Buck) and sliced fruit (sliced by Eddie), Eddie reaches out and grabs Buck's hand in full view of Christopher.

And before either of them can even say one word, Christopher tilts his head.

"Dad, are you and Buck in love?"

"Yeah, mijo. We are."

"Are you boyfriends now?"

Buck's grip on his hand is iron. He barely hesitates, just a quick glance at Eddie before he answers. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm your dad's boyfriend."

His heart should not be doing cartwheels at the word _boyfriend_ , but he knows better than to even try and stop the wide smile that's spreading across his face. _Boyfriend._ He's thirty-three years old, shouldn't they have a different word than something so... grade school? Athena had used "boo" for her and Bobby, but that's not quite right. Partner, maybe. He is Buck's partner in every sense of the word now.

Christopher nods like it makes perfect sense. Pours himself some more orange juice. "I figured out what book I'm going to read for my report," he tells Buck. "Dad helped me figure it out last night."

Eddie's not entirely sure Buck is breathing. He's turned into some kind of statue under Eddie's hand.

"Yeah?" Buck manages, and now there's movement in the form of Buck's hand trembling in his. "What are you reading?"

" _Matilda_. It's about a girl with super mind powers."

"Yeah, uh. I've read that one. It's really good. Miss Trunchbull is the worst, you know."

"I know!"

"The movie is pretty good too," Buck tells him. The tense line of his shoulders is melting away as he talks. Absentmindedly, he rubs his thumb across the back of Eddie's hand as he gestures with his fork. "When you're finished reading the book, we'll watch the movie and see what you think."

Christopher beams. "Okay!"

Outside, right where Abuela and the whole world can see them, Eddie pulls Buck in for a kiss.

No shame. None. Buck has already been his partner in everything else. Now he's just allowed to kiss him, to touch him as much as they want. And he wants. He always wants. So he stands in his grandmother's driveway and kisses Buck slowly, purposefully- and Buck kisses him back just as sweetly, just as intently.

Abuela is _beyond_ thrilled at the news. She jumps nearly a foot straight into the air despite her hip, chattering in happy Spanish as they stroll up the walk behind Christopher with their hands linked. "Oh, oh I'm so happy for you both!" She cries, kissing and crossing Eddie like always.

She insists on kissing and crossing Buck too, patting his cheek with incredible fondness before she lets them leave. "What a handsome boyfriend my grandson has snagged," she sighs, smiling. "Such a catch. Now go, off with you both. And be careful, si?"

Eddie hugs Christopher tight. "See you tonight," he whispers. "Be good."

They make it all the way back to the truck before Buck starts.

"Hear that? Your grandmother thinks I'm handsome."

"You're very pretty, Buck," Eddie says, throwing the truck in reverse. In the passenger seat, Buck sticks his head out the window and waves. "Put your seatbelt on."

"She said _handsome_. She said I'm your _handsome boyfriend_."

"And I will remind her to never say it again."

"But I'm _such_ a catch. Your abuela said so."

"She's been wrong about things before."

"I'm going to tell her you said that," Buck says as they pull into the station. "She'll feel sorry for me and she'll make me tres leches cake and Christopher and I will eat all of it."

Eddie snickers his way inside. "Yeah, and then _you_ get to deal with Christopher after two slices of tres leches. Good luck."

They both hover near the stairs thoughtfully, glancing up at the sound of Bobby's voice.

Technically, they have to report this to Bobby now that it's officially a serious thing. They even came in a few minutes early to do so, but now that they can hear him upstairs it's suddenly a different kind of real. There aren't any rules against coworkers dating for the LAFD- hell, parents and kids can work in the same house, so can couples- but there have been cases of transfers to separate a couple for various reasons.

Bobby wouldn't do that to them. At least, Eddie hopes not. He's not sure another station would be able keep Buck alive, and he's not about to remove himself from this little family he's finally found. He's pretty sure that Hen and Chim would stage a riot if they lost Buck, to say nothing of Bobby not being able to work with him anymore.

"Maybe we should wait?" Eddie suggests, heart pounding. _Coward_ , he thinks, but he's honest to god about to start shaking.

He's not afraid to tell people about him and Buck (obviously, he'd kissed the other man in his grandmother's driveway), but the thought of being seperated from Buck, not being able to work with him anymore... it's huge. It's not something Eddie wants in the slightest. He didn't get into a relationship with Buck just to turn around and spend less time with him.

"Let's do this before we both chicken out," Buck decides with a huge breath. He knocks his shoulder against Eddie's. "You don't think he's going to be weird about it, do you? He's been so weird lately."

"He has not been _weird_ -"

"You've been weird because you were all lovesick over me, pining away-"

"-I don't think _pining_ is the right word-"

"-but Bobby is definitely acting weird. Kinda worried this is just going to add to the weirdness."

He's not weird about it.

Bobby, much like Christopher, _nods_.

"Okay," he says. "Congratulations. I'm happy for you boys, and thank you for telling me."

A weight lifts off them both. Eddie can feel himself unclenching. "That's it?"

Bobby shrugs. "To be honest... I've actually been wondering when this would come up. For a while I thought you were already together, but you were pretty professional on the clock. I figured I'd say something if you ever weren't, but so far you've been fine." He pauses, eyes narrowing at them. "You've been professional at work, right?"

"Yes, sir," Eddie says, right as Buck bursts into giggles. Eddie whips his head towards the sound. Telling Bobby they'd had their first kiss at the station is one thing, but telling Captain Nash as they first officially announce their relationship is something else entirely.

"Sorry, sorry. It's just- I was so worried about telling _anyone_ , and literally no one has reacted in any kind of negative way. It's _such_ a relief."

Bobby's face softens. His grin is as fond as Abuela's when Eddie reaches over and grabs Buck's hand.

"I do have to put this in your files, just for our own records."

"What, like a gay sticky star? If there are sticky stars, I need a bisexual one-"

Eddie can't help it. It's so carefree and ridiculous that he bursts out laughing.

" _No_ , Buck. Just a note that you two have begun a romantic relationship and came forward about it immediately. It speaks well of you both, and it'll go a long way to proving that you two are taking this seriously, which will go a long way in helping me keep you two together." Bobby shakes his head, chuckling. "What even is a gay sticky star? You know what, nevermind. Go get changed- you're both on the clock in five minutes."

When Chimney and Hen pile in, Buck and Eddie are sitting on the couch hand in hand, eyes on the tv. Perfectly normal. Just an everyday thing except for the fact that he is holding Buck's hand. At work. For a second, everyone freezes as they all study each other, taking in body languages with wide eyes.

"Oh my god, I get to tell Maddie," Chimney declares, whipping out his phone. He has a wide, delighted smile on his face.

Hen rolls her eyes and whacks him upside the head. He doesn't take his eyes of the screen. "He means congratulations. We're happy for you two."

"Uh-huh, that." Chimney's camera shutter clicks. "Oh man, that's unfair," he says, showing Hen the picture.

" _Aw_ ," Hen croons, hand to her heart. "Y'all are so cute."

"That much attractive in one couple? That's not cute, it's an outrage." Chim's phone dings. He sighs, defeated. "Nope, Maddie says it's cute too. But seriously, can one of you ugly yourselves up or something?"

Hen drops into the chair beside them. "When did this happen? Tell me everything."

"I'm beginning to feel like we might have miscalculated," Buck mutters to him. His phone begins to vibrate with back to back texts just as Eddie's rings with a phone call. The ringtone tells him it's from Pepa this time. He'd hung up with his eldest sister (who's only question had been _¿Por qué tardaste tanto, hermanito?_ ) not two minutes after leaving Bobby's office.

"Yeah, how long has this been going on? You guys have been totally normal lately. Who made the first move? Wait, Eddie, what's that mark on your arm- is that a bite? I should probably take a look at that, I am a paramedic you know."

Eddie shies away from the touch, practically burrowing into Buck. "No, no, you really shouldn't."

Hen folds her hands. Stares them both down. Grins. "Now, now. Don't be shy, boys. We've got _all_ shift to talk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Spanish is limited to kitchen orders and swears, so I looked up what I did use. I can understand Spanish much better than I speak it (side effect of working in a kitchen where after you'd been there long enough you had to start giving your orders in Spanish) and LEAGUES better than I can write it.
> 
> "Don't stop, my love. Please don't stop." and "Why did you take so long, little brother?" is what the sentences should be, but apologies if I'm inefficient at google and used the wrong thing!!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are, at the end. Thank you for all the comments, the kudos, the bookmarks, and the keysmashes. They really kept me going.

In the end, it's actually pretty easy to get Buck to go to the banquet hall with them.

The simply wait until he's passing the truck and grab him.

" _What the fuck-_ " Buck yelps, nearly jumping right out of Hen's grip. "Holy shit, what are trying to do, give me a heart attack?"

Buck is big and it takes Chimney, Hen, and the element of surprise to begin steering him towards the rig they want him to go to. His feet slide on the floor a bit as he goes, trying to catch his footing and turn around.

"No heart attacks, just a regular run-of-the-mill kidnapping," Chimney tells him, hauling him forward. "Come along!"

"You're the kid, we're the nappers," Hen adds from over Buck's shoulder.

"Kidnapping? Wait-"

Hen gives Buck a good shove, forcing him to step up onto the rig or run face first into it when Chimney throws him. "No time to explain, Buckaroo, we gotta go!" She shoves him again, launching Buck forward right into Eddie's hands.

Eddie leans out of the rig and grins into Buck's startled face.

"Babe, what the hell-?"

Eddie just leans out further, hauling Buck up and kisses him fast and dirty. In the loft they can hear the other shift, the people who came in from other houses to cover for them, whooping and hollering and whistling. When Buck is stunned too breathless to even try to argue, Eddie pulls back.

"Trust me, cariño?" he murmurs softly.

Buck blinks. "Always," he says with no hesitation.

Eddie grins and yanks him forcefully into the rig. Buck spills in, all long limbs and pointy knees, barely righting himself before Chimney throws himself into the seat beside Buck with a slightly manic grin. Confused, Buck accepts his headset, glancing between them.

"You guys do know we have like two hours left of our shift, right?"

"Oh don't worry," Bobby says from the driver's seat as Hen clambers inside. "I'll have a talk with the captain. I'm sure it'll be fine."

With a wink, Hen cackling over the headsets, they're off. Technically, the use of sirens in a non-emergency is a violation of the code, but with LA traffic and a time restriction working against him (the rig is being driven back once they're dropped off- they're not about to park it outside for a few hours when it could be needed), they flip the switches and let the sirens blare and clear them a path.

Beside Eddie, Buck just furrows his brow.

"Where are we going?" he finally demands after a few minutes.

"You'll see when we get there," Hen promises.

Eddie grips his hand. "It's a surprise," he says calmly, like his stomach hasn't been jumping all damn day. "Just trust us."

This hasn't just been one month in the making. This is two years overdue, a secret they were allowed to be part of. If Cheryl hadn't been determined, if her son hadn't made her a Facebook group, no one would have ever had any idea about any of this. Now, they all know that Buck carries guilt he has no reason to feel. He thinks he's not a hero, that's he's nothing special.

Well, it's time for them to show Buck just how absolutely and completely wrong he is. And this ceremony is a good start.

They all pile out of the rig, reaching for Buck to pull him forward before he can do more than open his mouth in confusion. Eddie tugs him forward with a hand in his and behind him Bobby pushes one shoulder, Hen the other. Beside them, Chimney has a grip on Buck's elbow, quick-stepping them inside.

"What-"

"Inside! Come on, come on, let's go!"

The banquet hall is a good size. It boasts seating for two hundred and Eddie knows that's roughly how many people are in attendance after they'd added more and more to the guest list. Most of the non seating space is filled with large banquet tables that are piled high with some seriously mouth-watering food combinations. There are tables with seating all facing a stage that runs across the room with a podium and a large screen.

Around them firefighters, police, EMTs, and civilians alike mingle. Some are already seated, plates of food in front of them. Others roam around with small flutes of champagne or water. Eddie spies bottles of beer on one of the refreshment tables and grins.

"Okay, now I'm _really_ confused. What are we doing here?" Buck glances around, taking a half step closer to Eddie. "This place is nice, but like- Is that the _Mayor_?"

"Well, it's like this, Buck," Chimney starts, slapping a hand on Buck's shoulder once before handing him a plate. "We're at an awards ceremony for First Responders. There's a big award in particular that's the main event. If we stay and watch the show, we get free food and a couple of hours off."

"Wait, really?"

Eddie nods towards the buffet table. "There's steak."

"Yeah, no I see the steak- I'm so in for the steak by the way- but who is the bigshot award for?"

Bobby merely grins. "Oh, just a hero who's had this coming for a while. There's a lot of them here tonight, but he's something else. He's getting a medal and everything. Our table's over here- get your food and come sit down."

If Buck notices that their table is dead center of the room, he doesn't comment.

The food is spectacular, not that Eddie expected anything less from a catering company that Bobby had personally picked out after agonizing over the choice for almost a week straight (driving him and Athena completely around the bend with all the wavering). The steak falls apart with barely a whisper of pressure from his fork.

Buck, never one to turn down an excellent meal- or a free one- digs into his own plate with gusto. "I have no idea what's going on," he tells Eddie, shoving mashed potatoes into his mouth with blinding speed. "But this is so good I honestly don't care right now."

Hen reaches around Bobby and pats Buck's hand. "Trust me, it's gonna be worth it. This guy is amazing, he deserves this medal."

"It's already worth it," Chim moans beside Eddie, chewing blissfully on his own steak. "God, we should go to award ceremonies more often."

"Think one of us has to actually win and award for that, Chim," Buck cracks, glancing around. He pauses, doing a double take before turning slowly back to the group, brow creased.

"What's up, Buck?" Bobby asks casually, texting with one hand. He's really gotten much better at navigating the small buttons over the past month. Eddie barely gets any typos from him anymore, and the other day Bobby had even managed to FaceTime him while Eddie and Athena where doing the final setup.

"...I swear I just saw Maddie, but I know she's working today. And is that the Chief with the Chief of Police?"

"Oh, there's a ton of first responders here," Hen says easily. She nods to the table next to them. "Pretty sure that's the 136 right there, all rebuilt and back together."

"Wonder if any of them are getting the big award," Buck says thoughtfully. "I know Bosko's a badass."

Chimney manages to swallow his drink before he chokes, passing the laugh off as a cough right as the lights dim.

Buck glances over his shoulder one more time, but then focuses on the stage when Chief Alonzo steps up to the podium. All of Eddie's nerves come crashing into him suddenly, and he grips Buck's hand to steady himself.

This is it.

At the table beside them, Lena catches his eye. She raises her brow, a clear _yo, what the fuck_ of confusion. Eddie smirks, shakes his head. Lena's here for a reason too, and he's not about give it all away right at the finish line. She holds his gaze, daring him, but he just looks back to the stage with a grin.

"A First Responder's job, their calling, is to save lives. Every day, they put on their uniforms, strap themselves in, and run into fires, or rapid water, or any other number of dangerous, unknown situations." Alonzo glances around the crowd, gaze skipping from person to person. "We train, of course. But all the training in the world can't prepare you for the real thing. I think we can all agree that over the last few years we've had our fill of natural disasters."

A ripple of laughter goes through the crowd. "Damn straight!" comes from the other side of the room, which brings more laughter.

"Yes," Chief Alonzo agrees, chuckling. "But in the wake of these disasters, some amazing stories have been coming to light. Every first responder in this room tonight was on the ground during the tsunami, and of those first responders there are a few that stand out. Tonight, we are here to honor these previously unsung heroes, to give them the thanks and attention they deserve after a tsunami devastated the Santa Monica Pier."

Buck sucks in a visible breath, exhaling shakily. He squeezes Eddie's hand hard, a small tremor going through him.

They watch a handful of people get Distinguished Service medals with wide, surprised grins. The applause is always enthusiastic, the mood upbeat and happy. It's always nice to watch their fellow responders get recognized for their hard work, to watch the medal being pinned to their uniforms. Every single one of them deserves it, and it burns Eddie a little that so many of them went so long without so much as a 'thank you' for everything they'd done.

But they're fixing it now. That's something, even if it took forty-nine strangers and Athena's no-nonsense planning for it to all happen.

Eddie happens to know that the Grant-Nash household had picked up the tab for the caterer, that Hen and Karen had stayed up late for almost a week straight to arrange the decorations. Maddie says that Chimney has been driving her up the wall trying to get all the technical stuff just right and had even been consulting with the dispatch tech desk for pointers. They're all exhausted, worn down to the bone, but happy, and ready to watch everyone- Buck in particular, he's allowed to be biased- receive this award that is long overdue.

Everyone is in their regular uniforms rather than dress blues due to the secrecy of the event, but the awards are pinned on anyways. Eddie knows that no one on the receiving end of one of the awards had any idea that this was happening, which had been the whole point. To surprise these heroes, to show them that they were noticed and appreciated for everything they did and continue to do.

Lena, failing to keep a smile off her face, turns to Eddie and points to the metal award sitting proudly on her left shoulder with both hands. Her gaze zeroes in on Eddie's hands joined with Buck's and she wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. Eddie smirks, leaning over to kiss Buck's cheek. Lena fans herself dramatically, one hand over her heart, then turns back around with a wink and a grin.

Someone told her he'd had a hand in her nomination, he's sure of it.

Beside him, Buck snorts, relaxing a little more. He loses his death grip on Eddie's hand as Alonzo steps back up to the podium and pulls another notecard out of his pocket. The box of awards next to the Chief is empty now, and it looks like the awards-giving part of the ceremony is over. Eddie just smirks, patting Buck's hand.

"Congratulations, all of you. I'm not exaggerating in the slightest when I tell you that every one of you deserved this. I know you're all excited to get back to this amazing food, but we have one more award to give out. This all started... Well, how about I let my guest tell you about this one? If you would please welcome to the stage, Cheryl Franklin."

They release each other to clap, but Buck freezes mid motion, eyes going narrow, then wide.

"Eddie..." he asks under his breath, unable to look away. "Why is-?"

From the stage, Cheryl clears her throat and smiles. "A lot of you in this room know me, and a lot of you don't. Like all of you, I was swept up in the tsunami two years ago. I was close to the Santa Monica Pier, right in the heart of the disaster. The water actually picked up my little car and slammed me right into a building. I hit my head and must have passed out because I came to a while later with water around my ankles and getting higher. I couldn't get my door open, or the car started, or the window down. I was trapped, and I started to panic."

Buck shakes his head, hand coming up to cover his mouth. He can't tear his eyes away from the woman on the stage.

"I thought I was going to die," Cheryl continues. "I thought: _this is it_. This is the end. And then I heard a voice, shouting over the roar of the water. A man was there and he told me he was going to help me. He said he was going to get me out, that we were going to do this together, but to be honest, I didn't do anything. He broke my window, not even flinching when he cut his arm, and pulled me to safety. He even carried me through the deeper water until I could stand. And then he asked me if I'd seen a little boy."

The tremor is back, a full body tremble that has Buck shaking. Eddie leans in, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, tilting his head against Buck's. He can feel Hen running a hand up and down Buck's back. Buck breathes out around his fist, tears welling but not quite falling.

"I've told this story so many times. My son actually got a little sick of hearing about it and made me a Facebook group so I would have someone other than him to talk to about it all. I thought, 'well, what am I supposed to do with a Facebook group? I didn't even get this guy's name'! But I shared my story, and to my surprise, people started joining the group with their own stories to tell. A mysterious guy saved them while searching for someone- a boy named Christopher- and left once everyone was safe to continue his search. Eventually, the group grew to be forty-nine survivors big."

She turns to the screen behind her, pointing the remote in her hand and clicking. The screen comes to life, blinding for a second, before everything focuses. A familiar blue logo sits across the top of the screen, but the corner has everyone's attention: a picture of Buck, clear as day.

Lena whips her head around very unsubtly, then snaps back to the stage, mouth open.

Buck hunches in a little, trying to appear small, but Eddie shakes his head and pulls him upright.

"Sit up straight for this, mi amor," he whispers into Buck's ear. "This is all for you."

Buck's eyes are wet when they meet Eddie's. "Did _you_ do this?" he asks in disbelief.

"We all did," Chimney tells him, reaching around Eddie to grip Buck's hand.

" _Why_?"

"Why, he asks," Hen scoffs, face crumpling.

"Forty nine people," Cheryl is saying onstage, "and none of us got this guy's name! He saved every one us and just disappeared. All we knew was that he was searching for a boy named Christopher and that we- all of us- owed him our lives." She clicks the remote again, pulling the picture up to take up more of the screen, then flipping to the next one. Buck again, this time in the middle of handing two children back to their crying father, blood dripping from the cuts on his face. "Finally, someone said they heard him say he was a firefighter. And then I was off hunting, going to _every_ single station in LA. I don't know if you guys know this, but there's a lot of you in Los Angeles."

"Because you deserve this," Bobby says softly, gripping Buck's other hand so they're all linked, all holding Buck in some way.

More laughter rings out, and then Cheryl pulls the mic from the stand to move across the stage with it. She looks right at Buck. "But I'm stubborn, and finally, after two years of searching... I found you, Evan Buckley. We found you, and now we can finally thank you." She glances around, eyes moist. "Everyone from the group, if you would please stand?"

As Cheryl makes her way to the center of the room where the amorphous tangle that is the 118 is sitting, the people at the tables she passes stand up to follow her. Table after table, until everyone between the stage and the 118's table is standing in front of Buck.

Knowing the number of people is one thing. Seeing them all standing in front of him, knowing that each one of them is only alive because of the man at his side, is enough to make the tears Eddie has been fighting win out. He knows some of them now. He's spoken to them online, over the phone, in person, over video chats. He _knows_ what Buck did, what he went through to save them.

Hopefully now, finally, Buck will know it too.

Behind the crowd testimonies play out on screen, narrarating over the picture slideshow of the group's photos of Buck, the pictures they had gathered of Buck's actions. Some of the comments flash on screen, holding long enough to be read before another person speaks, telling a tale of Buck, daring, brave, stupid, beautiful Buck saving them.

"He asked for Christopher," they all say. "He wasn't going to stop until he found Christopher."

"I was on top of the firetruck with him. Buck pulled me from the water and got me to safety."

"He made that little boy smile and laugh."

"He kept going back into the water to pull people out."

Buck isn't sobbing, but it's a near thing going by the harsh breaths and shaking shoulders. He shakes his head, mouth open, gaze meeting that of every person standing before him. Recognition flickers each time. He knows them. He remembers, even now, all these people he'd saved. And still he'd never spoken a word. Still thinks he isn't a hero.

"All of us are alive because of you," Cheryl says softly into the mic. "And this isn't everyone."

"Wh- what?" Buck gasps out, tears falling.

The screen on stage flickers and suddenly splits into four feeds. In those feeds, more people sit- on living room couches, in different states, in another country- waving and smiling. "Thank you," each one says. One person has a sign, held up by the small child in their lap: _Thank you Buck!_

"Thank you," Cheryl says. "For pulling me out of my car."

"For getting me out of that flooded building."

"Away from the debris-"

"-to safety-"

"-back to my family-"

"-alive because of you-"

"Thank you, Buck," says a new voice, one that has Buck whirling towards it. "You saved me, told me to just keep swimming."

" _Christopher_ -" Buck sobs.

The surprised exclamation is caught by Christopher's mic, sending gasps of delight and surprise throughout the room. Now everyone is standing, craning to watch as Buck goes to Christopher in stunned silence, kneeling in front of the boy. Lena stands up on her chair to see over the crowd, phone held high for pictures. Athena melts out of the throng of people, her own phone pointed at them. She winks at Eddie, a tear dropping at the motion.

"Hi Buck," Christopher giggles, stopping just in front of him.

"Hey, Superman." Buck's voice is painfully soft. And full of impossible hope.

"I have something for you."

"You do?"

Christopher nods, handing his crutches to Eddie to free his hands. He digs into his pocket, coming up with a small, flat box. Shuffling forward, he opens it and hands it to Buck.

The medal winks in the light.

"It's a medal that's just for heroes. It's called the Medal of Valor," Christopher tells Buck, and Eddie feels a sob catch in his chest. Medal of Valor, given someone who goes above and beyond the call of duty at extreme personal risk. Who was instrumental in saving another person. "It's to remind you that you're a hero, so you never forget. Dad says sometimes you need help remembering."

Instead of on a pin, the medal sits on a ribbon big enough to loop over Buck's head. Christopher places it on Buck's shoulders gently, patting it down and making sure it sits just right on his chest. He traces his finger over the etchings for a moment before leaning in whisper, knowing it'll be caught by the microphone pinned to his shirt and everyone will hear it.

"You saved me and all these people. You're my hero, Buck."

The force of the sob nearly folds Buck in half. "You're mine," he says, breathless and crying, and gathers Christopher for a hug, standing to swing him around.

The applause when Eddie is yanked into the hug by them both is something else. It's almost enough to rattle the floors. Christopher's delighted laugh can just be heard over the din. "Now Buck has a medal like you, Dad," he announces, and Eddie grins up at Buck.

"He sure does." Eddie frames Buck's face with a hand, his other arm sliding around Christopher. "Maybe now you'll listen when I tell you how great you are, mi amor."

Eddie presses against Buck and kisses him. He has to, has to let every person in this room, in the world, that this is his family right here, this is everything. That he's lucky enough to not only have his incredible son in his life, but this _amazing_ man as well.

The applause grows to a deafening roar that they can't even hear over the laughter and cheers of their friends and the pounding of their hearts

(Though Lena's wolf whistle is impressive.)

* * *

"I can't believe you guys pulled that off," Buck says later at Eddie's. "I knew you guys were up to something, but I didn't know you were going to give me a _medal_."

Maddie laughs, easing herself down onto the couch beside him, one hand over her swollen stomach. She adjusts Buck's medal, brushing imaginary dust off. He'd once made a joke about never taking a medal off if he ever got one, but the opposite has proven to be true: they all caught Buck at multiple points over the night, hand reaching to get the medal off him and back into its case. He finally gave up and let it sit on his chest all night after Athena reached over to swat his hand last time he tried.

"Well, it wasn't easy, but with Athena in charge you know you're in for a good time. And of course you got a medal- forty-nine people saved while on medical leave? That's beyond impressive." She smiles, sniffling. "I'm so proud of you," she wails, throwing herself at her brother. "My brother, the hero!"

"Woah, okay." Awkwardly, Buck shifts away from Eddie to keep Maddie from toppling to the floor. "More crying pregnancy hormones?" he guesses.

"Oh yeah," Chim says, offering a tissue from the packet he's taken to carrying around in his pocket. "There's this one tire commercial that gets her every time."

"It's the puppy," Maddie sniffles into Buck's shoulder. "The puppy makes me cry, not the tires."

"Puppy?"

"In the _commercial_ ," Maddie sobs.

Chimney smiles, brushing her hair back from her face when she sits back to wipe her eyes. "I know, honey. It's a really cute puppy."

Christopher shifts in Eddie's lap, adjusting to lay more across Eddie when Buck stands to help his sister up. "My science teacher is pregnant," he tells them sleepily. "She cries every time we watch a Bill Nye video."

Maddie laughs and glances at where Chim's hand is resting over her stomach. "Babies can make your body do weird things. Like need to be in bed at 8pm no matter how late you sleep in."

"Hey, you made it to ten-thirty tonight. That's impressive to do while growing a human."

Buck, forever easy with his affections, wraps her in a hug. "Thanks for coming, even if you had to hide off to the side at first."

Maddie squeezes him tight. "Of course I came. You deserve this, and I'm so proud of you. I just wish I didn't have to find out about all that from a bunch of strangers. You leave an awful lot unsaid, Buck." She allows Chimney to lead her out the door, face buried in a tissue. "Take care of him!" she orders, finger jabbing at Eddie. "He's a big damn hero, even if he won't admit it!"

"Always," Eddie promises after she's gone, gaze on Buck.

"Hero," Buck scoffs- playfully, though his shoulders still hunch.

"You _are_ a hero. Now you just have the medal to prove it."

And now it's just Buck and Eddie in the living room, Christopher having dropped into sleep barely five minutes after the door shuts behind everyone. He's so big now- it feels like he's barely any smaller than Eddie when Eddie carries him to bed. He tucks Christopher in, slipping off his glasses and his shoes before pressing a kiss to his hair.

He'd been so damn excited to give Buck a medal: Christmas and his birthday all wrapped up into one. He'd barely left Buck's side during the entire party- nearly every picture of Buck has Christopher in it. Staying up past his bedtime, lots of food, _and_ being able to hang off Buck the entire time? He's going to sleep like a dead person tonight. Maybe he'll even sleep past six am.

After everything had died down a little and everyone had started migrating back to their seats, wiping their eyes and trying to recover from it all, Buck had hugged each of them in turn, latching onto Bobby like someone was going to come take him away.

"This is why you've all been acting so weird," he'd laughed out. Tears were still slipping through his lashes, but he was smiling and radiating happiness.

"It's awful hard to keep a secret from you, Buck," Bobby admitted. "Even if it was for your own good. Don't tell me you wouldn't have protested the entire time we were planning this thing if you'd known about it," he added when Buck opened his mouth.

"Exactly," Hen added. "We would have had to drag you here kicking and screaming and after all the work everyone put into this? Mm-mm. You were gonna get that damn medal."

Chim stepped in before Buck could do more than blink. "You _earned_ it, and I'm so mad we found out about it from strangers on the internet instead of you. Shut up and accept the medal, wear it proudly Buck. And brace for impact- here comes your sister."

Buck has his medal off his chest and in his hand when Eddie gets back into the living room. He stares at the etched metal like he's not sure what to do with it, face baffled but also slightly amused. Eddie wraps his arms around Buck from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder. He presses a kiss to the side of Buck's face when Buck doesn't turn.

"I really can't believe you did this for me," he says hoarsely. "All of you."

"You deserve it."

Buck sighs, hand closing around the medal. "I don't feel like I do." He tosses it- gently, at least- on the couch.

"You think I feel like I deserve my Silver Star?"

Slippery as an eel, Buck somehow manages to turn to face Eddie without stepping out of his arms. "Of course you do. You saved your platoon after a helicopter crash while being shot at- you _got shot three times_. You went back for everyone. You're incredible, Eddie, and you did something incredible. Of course you deserve-"

"You," Eddie breathes, breath gone, just gone from his lungs, "saved forty-nine people after a natural disaster, while injured and on blood thinners. You walked _miles_ through destroyed buildings to save people and didn't stop moving until you saw that Christopher safe. You played a game with him on top of a firetruck to keep him distracted and happy. _You're_ incredible, cariño. You deserve this."

A medal won't fix everything. Eddie knows that better than most people.

But sometimes a tangible reminder that you did something someone else thought was worthwhile can help you quiet the demons, if only for a little while. And if Buck's demons ever get too loud, Eddie will be here, and he will be even louder. Now there are over fifty people to back him up, and if Buck ever forgets he's a hero again then they will _all_ be there to remind him. There's a whole group about it and everything.

Buck closes his eyes, resting his forehead against Eddie's. "Thank you." He kisses him, fingers tangling in Eddie's hair. "I love you _so much_. You and Christopher are everything to me. The medal, the ceremony, it was all nice, but I don't need all that. You know that, right?"

"No, you did need it. You wouldn't have believed us otherwise. You already tried arguing at the ceremony, so just stop. I love you. You deserve this and every time you try to say otherwise I _will_ talk over you. Now, let's go to bed." He tugs Buck forward. "We'll put your medal next to mine for Christopher's next show and tell. He's already talking about wanting you to come into the class and give a speech-"

Eddie stops suddenly, nose crinkling.

"Uh, babe?"

"Do you smell that?" Eddie asks.

"What?"

Unsure, Eddie stalks towards the kitchen, sniffing as he goes. Did he leave food out? A bad smell is wafting faintly through the air, sickly sweet. No, that doesn't smell exactly like bad food. He's ventured into the back of the fridge enough to know what bad food smells like. No, this is more like old mildew and the faint sink of sweat.

Eddie pivots, facing the couch.

No fucking way.

"Oh my god," he mutters, breathing deep. He shoves Buck's medal onto the coffee table before the smell can soak into it. "It's the _couch_."

Buck's hands shoot into the air, V for victory, and he spins a quick circle, laughing. "Yes! Yes, _it's the couch_. Finally, oh my god." He laughs straight from his gut, face split open with a smile.

Eddie gets closer, sniffing hard. Ugh, it's even worse close up and now that he's noticed it, he can't _not_ smell it. How long has his couch smelled like this? How has he never noticed before now? "Okay, we are tossing this thing first thing in the morning."

"I _told_ you it smelled!"

"Yeah, yeah- seriously, what _is_ that?"

"I don't know, it's _your_ couch."

Eddie rolls his eyes and pulls Buck towards his room, rubbing his forehead. He's never going to hear the end of this, he can already tell.

They're silent as they pass Christopher's room. Buck pauses to peek in, his smug grin softening into a full smile when he sees Christopher asleep on his back, arm dangling off the bed. He steps in to fix the blanket, careful to avoid the toys scattered around like landmines.

Eddie is so, so glad he already had his phone in his hand because otherwise he might not have gotten the picture of Buck pressing a kiss to their son's forehead- which is currently tied for his favorite picture of the night, along with about twenty others.

It's a little crazy to be so optimistic about a relationship that's barely four days old, but he can't help it. Everything just feels... right. And, if they're really honest with themselves, isn't this relationship actually a few years old by now? They've been through so much together already and this? This is easy. Natural. It feels like he's spent his whole life waiting for Buck.

Eddie kisses Buck as soon as the bedroom door closes behind them, mouth hot and firm on his. "Yes Buck, you were right. The couch smells." Eddie pats his cheek, stepping away to change into his pajamas when Buck reaches for him. "And tomorrow morning, you get to help me haul it outside."

"Wow, already making your _Medal of Valor_ having boyfriend do menial labor." Buck tuts, pulling his shirt over his head. "I see how you are, Diaz."

"Oh, what, you're gonna make your _Silver Star_ having boyfriend do all the work himself? Shame on you, Buckley."

They slide under the blankets, wrapping themselves up in each other automatically. Buck sprawls on his back, limbs askew as Eddie arranges himself against Buck's side. The bed isn't big, but it fits them both well enough for now, and gives them the perfect excuse to sleep curled right up against each other.

Maybe he can convince Buck to move in and bring his mattress with him eventually.

"Did you see what the group is named now?" Buck asks, scrolling on his phone with one hand.

"No, I didn't know they changed the name." Eddie sits up, dislodging Buck's arm around him to reach for his own phone. "What is it?"

There are tons of notifications from the group. After the ceremony, Chim, Bobby, Hen, Athena, Maddie, and Eddie all were finally able to join the group officially, no longer having to worry about secrets. There are so many new posts and members- mostly firefighters, some of Buck's other Facebook friends, a large group of first responders. People have been submitting pictures and videos from the ceremony and commenting on the front page about Buck's daring rescues and it's a lot to scroll through. The video montage has gone nearly viral (he thinks, but Buck disagrees and scrolls past it with a dismissive noise) in the five hours since it's been posted.

Lena had personally submitted about fifty photos she'd snapped of Buck in the crowd, swarmed by the lives he'd saved- and one tasteful one of everyone who'd gotten a Distingushed Service Award, also crowded around Buck. She'd sent Eddie about twenty she'd taken of him and Buck together, of Buck and Christopher, of all three of them, his phone buzzing practically nonstop when she was literally one table over from him. She followed them up with an invitation for them both to come hang out after their next shift to meet her new girlfriend and grab some beer _and also kick both your asses at pool_.

Athena had sent Eddie all the photos and videos she'd taken directly, making sure to tell them that Bobby had not stopped bawling since he'd started looking through them all (with suspicously wet eyes herself that Eddie knew better than to mention).

One picture set pinned to the top of the group's front page makes them both stop.

Buck is kneeling in front of Christopher, hands on his thighs, eyes red rimmed as Christopher arranges the medal in the center of Buck's chest. They're both smiling wide even as tears are falling down Buck's cheeks. The crowd is a blur behind them, a wall of blue on one side and the survivors on the other. The next picture is Buck lifting Christopher into the air, face buried against the boy's curls. Just behind them, they can see Eddie wiping his eyes and watching them with a smile.

"Look at that," Eddie murmurs, saving them both to his phone. "Those are keepers for sure."

Buck reaches over, swiping at the screen. "I like this one," he says quietly.

It's a picture of all three of them embracing, Buck's head tilted down, Eddie's tipped back, eyes locked on each other. Christopher's head is partially turned, grinning up at them both from the cradle of their arms. He has one hand on Buck's medal, the other around his father's arm.

"Could be a family picture," Buck says, voice soft. He's a little hesitant, but not completely unsure. He's not doubting this, Eddie doesn't think. He's just a little cautious still. He swallows thickly. "I mean, if- if we wanted it to be."

Eddie immediately saves it, setting it as both his phone background and his lockscreen. "We're framing it," he swears. "I'll print it off tomorrow and hang it up in the living room."

Delighted, relieved, Buck kisses him. "Are you going all domestic on me, Eddie?"

"Already got a house and a kid, Buck. I'm pretty domesticated." Eddie settles back against him, scrolling through the notifications again. "What were we- oh yeah, the new group name."

"Oh." Buck squirms. "Man, it's kind of-"

" _Thank you, Evan Buckley_ ," Eddie reads. Damn, and he thought he'd already cried himself dry tonight. "Yeah. That sounds about right."

"Hey, don't start man, I've cried _so much_ tonight already, and if you start, then _I'm_ gonna start, and then we're just gonna lay here and cry-"

"At least Maddie isn't here. Every time she started at the ceremony we all went off."

They breathe through it, laughing a little. Eventually, they manage to stop the tears, wiping each other's eyes with wry smiles. Buck kisses him soundly, fingers carding through Eddie's hair.

"Get some sleep, hero. We have a big day of getting Christopher to the park ahead of us."

Buck yawns, arms coming around Eddie. "The one over by that Juice Hut? There's an arcade over there too. I figure if it gets too hot, we can take him over there to cool off for a bit, maybe grab a bite to eat. Isn't your grandmother coming over after that?"

"Yes, but if you don't call her Abuela like she told you to, I'm not going to save you when she comes after you."

Buck huffs out a choppy breath, a half asleep laugh, already drifting off. "She's going to teach me to make tres leches," he says around another yawn. "I'm going to make it for your birthday."

Eddie smiles, brushing his lips over Buck's forehead. His birthday is ten months away, not even a thought in his mind yet. But Buck's already looking that far ahead.

"I look forward to it, cariño."

.

.

.

When Buck slips out from under him this time, he only gets as far as the kitchen. Eddie finds him in front of the stove next to Christopher, both dusted with flour and a stack of pancakes waiting on the table. He gets a good morning kiss from them both.


End file.
